


Paranormal Parolee

by WallWhisperer



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Cartoon references, Cocaine, Confessions, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Cult references, Demonic Possession, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, I blacked out and found the rough draft for this written in blood the next day, Magic, Musical Beetlejuice, Netherworld bureaucracy, Netherworld cops, Parole Officer, Parolee, Prophecy? Maybe? Let's see if I get that far., Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Suicide, Swearing, Writing fanfic is doing gods work, buddy cop, movie plot, slooooooow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26986534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallWhisperer/pseuds/WallWhisperer
Summary: Grace  G. Fornax is a cop for the Netherworld, who still has a pulse! And when She's in over her head on a monster extermination assignment she calls on a certain demon for help. But when things are taken care of she won't see him again...right?  Her life is then thrown to the metaphorical wolves when Netherworld HQ attaches Beetlejuice to her in an unexpected way. The two begin working together out of necessity and convenience, forging a friendship along the way. Beetlejuice is happy to see his new cop friend is a lot more "morally grey" than he first thought. Grace is happy to see Beetlejuice isn't the Evil crackhead his file says he is... well, not entirely. misunderstandings, magic, bureaucratic red tape, and new feelings face them on their road. will things end well for the buddy cop duo? will the sleep deprived author even write an ending? Who Knows!
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Originial Female Character(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 17





	1. Summoning a Demon in a time of wormy crisis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnowySithSam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowySithSam/gifts).



> Just wanted to get a few things outta the way before we all get on this dumpster fire rollercoaster!
> 
> IMPORTANT~
> 
> The Beetlejuice I'm going to use is from the broadway. personality wise and visually its B-way BJ. The Beetlejuice plot I will reference though is the Movie plot and ending. The Movie ending where the marriage fails, he hates the Maitlands and Deetzs, and he gets eaten by a sandworm. And marrige ain't gonna make him human, it just frees him. who the hell wants to be human!? So think B-way BJ but in the Movie-verse.
> 
> It will come up in the story, but for easier understanding the acronym NMPTE stands for 
> 
> Nether world Management Paranormal and Torment Enforcers 
> 
> And it a fancy name for ghost cop!

It wasn't Grace Fornax's first monster extermination assignment. Compared to handling case work assignments they were cut and dry. Find the beast, kill it. They didn't even care how she disposed of it afterward. No, what made her nervous was the kind of monster whose photo graced the front of the paperwork HQ had given her. No one in her line of work liked dealing with sandworms. Once before, earlier in her career she'd dealt with a juvenile sandworm. But there was a big difference between the babies and the adult worm her file told her she'd be handling next.

It was standard to take them on in teams of at least three. Not for the first time Grace felt alone being the only agent working topside, and the only agent still breathing. She was the only NMPTE agent not dead and bound to the netherworld.

Grace sighed and tightened the short ponytail holding back her brown hair. Feeling bad about it wasn't gonna make the destructive worm disappear. The first thing sandworms do when they break through to the human plane is make a nest and establish territory. That's what led her to the large product warehouse she stood in front of now. Hefted over her slim shoulders was a duffle bag of extra equipment. The weapons she carried consisted of a shotgun and a large athame dagger on her belt. A gun and a knife against a sandworm, really? Well, unlike ghosts, ghouls and the like, when monsters breach the corporeal plane traditional weapons did a pretty good job. Held in the inner pocket of her striped jacket was a folded up personnel file that she carried as a plan B. She hoped not to use it.

The early morning was misty, the sun just having risen and casting pale light across the pavement of the warehouse district. The air grew warmer with the sun as the lone stripe clad figure approached the large storage building that was rumbling quietly from whatever was writhing inside.

Blatant and unabashed fear crept up her spine like cold water. Even after countless risky jobs she could never completely stamp out her very human reactions to such creatures.

"Hell, this is never gonna get any easier is it" Grace mumbled.

She moved her shaking hands to the handle of the access door. Upon entering, high metal shelves and boxes met her on either side creating aisles of imposing shadows. Through the gaps Grace noticed a large open space meant for loading and unloading whatever products the building held. She also noticed the large creature inhabiting the space. Small hands gripped the shotgun as she approached the writhing mass of stripes. 

The only sound in the warehouse was the crunching of wood as the worm's jaws tore through whatever crate had caught its interest, and the sound of rough sandpaper on rock as the striped hide of its body moved over the cement.

Crouching low, Grace made her way closer with the gun trained on the spot just below its first set of eyes, the red ones that looked like polished red billiard balls. Her focus on the monster's weak spot kept her from realizing the worm had stilled, and its second set of eyes had found something much more interesting than boxes.

The end of its tail was wrapped tightly around her leg and was hoisting her into the air before she even noticed. Grace sailed through the air at the flick of the creature's tail. She met metal shelves mid air and could hear a wet crunch sound resonate through her body before falling to the cold floor. The sandworm twisted towards its prey that had fallen between the shelves. Despite its agility and flexibility its large size worked against it in the confined aisles. Where a juvenile sandworm was a bit thicker than a playground tube slide, an adult was almost as thick as a subway train. The twisting, sidewinding motion of the beast shifted the tall metal shelves. Grace was dragging herself towards a side door as the worm jerked forward to catch its fleeing breakfast, causing the metal racks around it to tip and fall on its long body. The falling shelves emptied their boxes and contents across the floor as the beast continued to writhe under the metal.

In the sudden commotion the injured agent had escaped and closed the door behind herself before her opponent saw where she went. 

So fast, The altercation had been so fast. Not a minute into the hunt and she could feel the difference between this and any hunt she'd done before. The resident killers of Saturn's moon Titan really were in another league. It was as if the younger worms were from a totally different species. _Puberty I guess,_ she thought before looking at her new surroundings.

The sight before her was a harshly lit mens bathroom. Pushing herself to her feet Grace staggers to the opposite wall and slides down to the tiled floor with a groan. Her breathing sharp and quick as she ran her hand down her side inspecting her bodily damage. Grace gasped suddenly when her fingers met the last three ribs on her left side. The pain in her lungs told her they were at the very least badly bruised, very probably broken. 

The sound of destruction and shifting metal had continued since entering the bathroom. The battered human waited quietly, waiting for the worm to realize its loss... or find her. After Grace didn't know how long, the noises outside settled. She practically held her breath in the relative quiet. Realizing she had successfully given it the slip she slumped further into the wall, all tension leaving her small frame.

"Today is not my day" she whispered to the empty room. Slowly taking stock of her situation she finds her shotgun gone. The duffle of equipment and the shotgun in her hands had all been smacked away on impact, lost in the mess of items and products now covering the floor. The women's hands search her person and find that her last weapon is her athame dagger. Now in a situation with nothing but a blade about a hand and a half long between her and the sandworm. 

Shifting the blade to her dominant right hand made something in her inner jacket pocket crinkle, catching her attention. What's found is the forgotten "plan B" file. She took these files on jobs out of habit ever since her assistant had nagged her about doing jobs without any backup. 

Sighing in annoyance at what she was about to deal with she opened the file and started reading. It was one of hundreds of files she had on poltergeists and demons. Each one covered info on someone who had been imprisoned, banished, or restricted. Grace could summon any of them to fill temporary assistant positions. Helping an NMPTE agent like her counted as " _community service_ " and helped towards a lighter sentence or early parole. Being the only living agent, any help provided to her did wonders for someone's permanent record.

The papers in her hands held the record of the only ghoul who had experience with sandworms. A one **Lawrence Betelgeuse Shaggoth** an unranked demon with a rap sheet longer than the wait in the netherworld. Looking over his photo ID she notes the smirk on his face and the finger guns he held up for the mugshot. _At least he isn't an old world demon with horns and talons and burning red skin, those guys are the worst._ The back of the file detailed how to summon him. _Wait, this guy has a name curse? That's heavy stuff. And it's tied to his middle name and not his last name? I've never seen it done like that._

Grace hesitates, straining her ears to any sounds outside the door. She could still feel the gritty presence of the creature. It was still in the building. Gathering her breath she spoke demons name in a hushed tone

"Beetlejuice

Beetlejuice

Beetlejuice!"

His appearance was sudden, and very flamboyant. A cloud of saturated purple smoke erupted from the center of the room. The lights shifted casting a green tint around the space and began flickering. The now strobing lights revealed a person's silhouette in the fading smoke. Grace pushes herself to a standing position in the purple smog. A deep gravelly voice cut through the silence.

"It's SHOWTIME!"

A laugh matching the voice follows as he spins on the heels of his pointed black boots. His posture was rigid with overflowing excitement. He oozed manic energy. The man standing in front of Grace was shockingly pale, with deep purple almost bruise like shadowing around his glowing yellow eyes. Bright electric green colored the majority of his otherwise brown hair. The short stubble along his jaw was similarly colored. His hands were as pale as the rest of him, the fingernails black and roughly cut. The index finger on his left hand wore a ring with a thick gold band and a large red stone about the size of his thumbnail. His three piece suit was black and white, striped from shoulder to ankle.

Beetlejuice's large hands smoothed the front of his tattered suit and brushed the sleeves of excess dust and dirt. He looked to Grace more like a long dead poltergeist than a born dead demon. She couldn't judge it well though, some supernatural beings blurred the lines between the two.

As if finally noticing the humans presence in the room with him his eyes snap to hers and a crazed cackle splits his face into a grin as he rushes up to her. The demon grabs her under the arms and plants a kiss over Grace's closed mouth. His own personal greeting he uses special for the folks that summon him. Sputtering from the sudden contact with her face and injured side she slides back down the wall with a pained hiss, returning to her sitting position.

Taking a step back Beetle begins sizing up the agent against the wall with their legs out in front of them. The breather in front of him was average in height and size, if a little on the smaller end. Short copper brown hair was pulled back in a knot with longer fringes falling around their face and some sticking out from their hairline like the plumage of a bird. Over their simple black shirt and pants they wore a long jacket that ended about halfway to their knees. It was a short sleeve jacket with cuffed sleeves and what looked like a lot of pockets. But what _really_ caught his eye was the wide black and white stripes running horizontal across the whole garment.

"Looks like we shop at the same store, Hermano, I'm digging it! Loads better than the stuffy uniforms those other agents seem to live their undead lives in. " He laughs, looking down at the sitting human.

His flippant attitude and crazed appearance made Grace almost immediately regret summoning him.

"Keep your voice down! Or else it'll find us before we even have a plan." The agent says in a fervent whisper

"What the frick-frack tic-tac are you even talking about?" He says squatting down to the breathers eye level. In contrast to their slumped posture the brown eyes in their noggin burned with purpose. _I know what needs to get done and I will do it_ , that's what those eyes said. It was a welcome sight for the demon. He _hated_ working with people who didn't know what they wanted. _Wishy washy suburban town folk for example_.

"There's an adult sandworm outside, It caught me in the side and I lost my gun. It's bad and I can't do this alone, hence the reason you've been summoned."

Every word made his dark eyes get bigger. His face shocked and falling quickly. Beetlejuice rushes from his semi sitting position and sticks his head through the solid door. A short fearful _EEK_ slips from his throat and he immediately pulls his head back in. Backing away from the door his hair starts shifting from green to a muddy red black color, _was a little bit of it turning black?_

Mumbling to himself he faces the opposing wall and knocks his head against it again and again for a solid minute. Fear is then replaced with a brief moment of anger as he stops abruptly and starts pacing and talking to himself.

"Lucifers Tits! I'm in a damn bathroom with a broken _Empty_ and a full blooded sandworm right outside the door nipping at my freakin' heels! I'm never gonna catch a break. I get summoned by an _Empty_ and I think 'great! Help out the sorry sucker and get some benefits' what's not to like? But NOOOOO, Satan forbid anything is that easy!"

The aforementioned " _Broken Empty"_ spoke up.

"Don't call me an _Empty_ "

Beetlejuice swivels to look at Grace with a face that says _really? That's what you're worried about right now?!_

"You can call me agent Fornax"

"There is no way in HELL that stupid word pretending to be a last name is comin' outta my mouth"

Grace arches an eyebrow at the insult to her last name, like his was any better.

"Then you can call me by my middle name, Getty. It's fair since I'll be using your middle name."

"What've you got against your first name?"

"I could ask you the same thing." she shoots back

"So just not gonna let me use your first name?"

"Not unless you want me to use _your_ first name" Grace threatens. Beetle's mouth tightens in a line of discomfort

"Touché"

The banter between them hid how nervous they both were. The pressure of the situation had _wormed_ its way into both of the bathroom's occupants. 

Grace returned the file back to her pocket as the demon in front of her began fidgeting. As he wrung his hands, he started mumbling to himself again in an anxious way. His words only audible due to the close confines and echo of the restroom.

"I can't deal with this on top of the house arrest bullshit. Why did I get stuck with a breather who's insane!? Urgh, but failing to assist the summoning agent carries _more_ punishment. I can't have that on my plate right now! SHIT!" he grunts in frustration. Then his messy eyebrows crinkle together in confusion as a thought crosses his mind.

Looking down at ' _he who summoned the stripey bastard_ ' he aired his question in a serious tone.

"Why, pray tell, was I the unfortunate soul you called for this?"

Sighing, Grace answered him.

"You were the only available ghoul who had any experience with sandworms" she said weakly, holding up his file. 

Pale hands clenched to his side as he narrows his eyes at her. Through gritted teeth he growls

"I have experience being EATEN by sandworms!"

Hearing his angry confession, it was Grace's turn to be quietly furious. She stares at the ground scowling.

"That's Important information. MISSION CRITICAL information. Damn the netherworld civil workers and their vague ass files! Even when they're DEAD the bourgeoisie is still screwing me over." She hissed quietly. 

She was thrown a questioning look by her fellow bathroom squatter. Before he could comment on her anti-establishment quip, a shifting of wreckage is heard from outside the door. The change in the atmosphere made them both tense. More silence followed as Human and Demon attempted to assess the worm's position.

The first to break the silence is Grace as she pulls herself once more to her feet. Waving her hand in an arc she beckons the striped demon over to her.

"You gotta help me out with my busted ribs."

Beetlejuice shook his head condescendingly, a smirk on his face.

"Do I look Like a healing priest or some shit to you?"

"Cut it out _Beetle_ , I know demons can dull the senses. I can't do anything in this much pain."

"So we're already to the point of using nicknames huh?"

"Please, while I'm young" she snaps at the ghoul. 

His hands reach for her side.

"Whatever you say _G-dawg_ "

He rested his hands over what he assumed was the worst injury, slowly spinning juice under the breathers skin. The feeling that came from his hands was immediate and strange. A sensation like cold smoke bled from his fingertips through the injury all the way to her head. The fog of his power clouded her eyes briefly before settling at the back of her mind, dampening any pain signals sent from her body.

Standing up straighter, now free from the pain, Grace gently pushes The Beetle's hands from her side. A hand on her dagger Grace strides towards the door before being stopped. Her more confident steps interrupted by Beetlejuice jumping in front of her.

"Whoa hey! What are you doing!? What happened to making a plan?"

"I got the distinct impression you didn't want anything to do with this"

"Well, ya. I don't wanna go anywhere _near that thing,_ but you're not gonna brainstorm or n'thin?"

"If you aren't going to help, **leave**."

"I-epzdkspqeh~" he splutters "Do you know what would happen If they found out I left without doing anything!? They would have my metaphorical head on the metaphorical choppin' block! I'm talkin' _permanent record level punishments_ here."

"Well gosh, sorry if that's not my biggest concern right now." They say sarcastically, gesturing towards the door with a monster on the other side. "Look, I can't have you around if you're not gonna help, I'd have to worry about the sandworm _and_ you being in danger. But I'm also not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do. If I'd known about your _history_ with sandworms I wouldn't have called you for this."

What they said gave him pause. It was more consideration than he'd been given in centuries. Especially from someone who for all intents and purposes was a part of "the system". He chalked it up to the _still breathing_ aspect of this particular cop. _Breathers and their unwarranted sense of protection, you know I hate it._

She made another attempt at the door, but before she could move again both of the demons hands found her shoulders, holding her in place

"Whoa whoa whoa, just wait a sec will ya! You need help, _I_ can provide said help, but..." He leans in closer. "I'm not about to do anything if there's even a _chance_ of me catching blame for any failures. When you write the report for what's about to go down I want a GLOWING review. AND a hand written recommendation from you, to the parole board, about my freedom."

Beetlejuice pauses, waiting for the agent to grasp his words.

"Deal?"

He keeps steady eye contact with the human in front of him.

Without hesitation Grace nods her head.

"You've got a deal."

Moving past him in a side step she puts her warm hands on the smooth, brushed metal bathroom handle. She was actually pretty glad the ghoul beside her had decided to help, ultimatum or not, her chances of finishing the job without dying were much better with him around.

Stalling briefly, the nervous agent takes a deep breath and steals her nerves.

"Hey, Mr flamboyant, your on distraction duty"

Facing the door, she pushes through, re-entering the warehouse before he could answer. Or complain.


	2. AN: About mood ring hair

Before we go any further it has come to my attention that how I think of Beetlejuice's mood ring hair may not be universal. So I made a helpful visual! It's almost exactly the same as what everyone else uses in other fanfics, but there _are_ a few slight differences that may be important in the story~

I make all my own images, so if they dumb that's on me~


	3. The battle of the three stripey bastards

The scene Grace was met with was only slightly more chaotic than she'd left it. 

The fallen shelves had been pushed into each other providing vague paths and ways of access for the worm. Crates and boxes littered the ground, their contents spilled and covering most of the floor. It was starting to really look like a sandworm nest. The docking area to the back that was still semi clear was her destination.

Away from the site of her scuffle with the worm the warehouse was still mostly undisturbed. The high metal scaffold looking shelves still standing in some spots.

Shifting silently through the rubble to the other end of the building she resembled an escaping prisoner, with her quiet footsteps and striped clothes.

The sandworm had returned to where Grace had first found it. Its face was buried in a crate holding whatever had caught the worm's interest. It was a strange moment of deja vu, everything so similar to her first attempt . She wouldn't make the same mistake twice though. 

To the left of the creature was one of the still standing metal shelving units.

Agent Fornax headed towards the shelves, an idiotic, boarderline suicidal plan blooming in her head. Standing at the base of the gray rack Grace's palms begin sweating as she looks to the top of the looming height.

The moment her hands grip the metal a sharp  **bang** sounds off to the right of the sandworms position, followed by a sudden rain of glittering red confetti.

_ Sounds like Beetlejuice has finally joined the party. _ She thinks to herself before refocusing on her task. 

Holding firm to the metal bar just above her head she starts pulling herself up. Though the pain from the injuries was gone, she could feel her body struggle to work properly. As she climbed she could see between the shelves an absolute storm of chaos made by the striped man. It was an impressive show of light and smoke. Carnival lights appeared in and out of existence around the beast. More than one Beetlejuice could be seen jumping and cartwheeling around the room. The tail and jaws of their opponent would occasionally catch one of the dancing figures. Each time it happened Grace winced, then the body would poof into smoke, confirming that it was only a copy.

Realizing that she hadn't been moving while watching the bright display, Grace hurried hand over hand to the top of the shelf. 

Grace was well off the ground at that point. 30, maybe 40 feet off the industrial warehouse floor. She couldn't tell. Beetlejuice's over the top distraction kept the two faced monster in the center of the room. The worms head and tail whipped around the room never staying still. Ignoring the writhing parts, Grace focused on the worm's center of gravity. She would be aiming for below the neck, right where the dorsal fin crowned the spine.

The small injured figure at the top of the metal tower crouched, gripping the gleaming dagger. Stepping her left leg behind her to get a running start, Grace makes eye contact through the smoke and confetti with Beetlejuice.

He squints his eyes and furrows his brow in confusion looking up at her. Realizing what she's about to do a look of panic crosses his face.

Before he can even shout, the agent at the top takes two big lunges and launches themselves into the air headed straight for the sandworm's neck.

She hit the worm hard, the lack of pain despite the heavy impact almost throwing her off her game. Her magically dulled senses making her clumsier than normal. Scrambling against the rough scales Grace grips the front ridge of the black dorsal fin that's as big as a King size bed headboard.

Finally Grasping the situation, Beetlejuice begins conjuring ropes to hold down the angry mass of stripes. The worm broke the ropes almost as fast as the Beetle could make them. Even ropes as thick as Grace's arms frayed and snapped as the beast tried to throw her off. despite all this, its movements are somewhat stilled. Grace pushes further up on the sandworm closer to its first face. Her left arm holding herself on the fin she moves her right, blade holding, hand closer to where she knew the skin was soft and concealed an important artery.

Grace threw her whole body into the stabbing motion. The long grey blade sank into the sandpaper skin all the way up to the hilt. With the blade buried she began pulling it towards herself, through the black and white flesh. The deep slice widened as she held onto the daggers black handle and kept pulling. A fountain of deep purple, almost magenta blood flowed freely from the wound in torrents.

An empty sounding screech that felt like broken glass on the ears rang through the building as the sandworm roiled in fits of pain. A sharp jerk of the serpent's neck sends Grace flying through the air for the third time that day. She lands in a pile of debris left from the worms curious snooping prior, breaking her fall to a degree. The falling sensation coupled with the impact knocked her out immediately, out like a light.

The pain agent Fornax woke up to brought tears to the corners of her burning eyes. She realized she was laying flat atop several unbroken crates and large blue shipping tarps. The position was contrary to her memories of where she had landed. The set up seemed like a sort of bed made to keep her from lying in the mess that surrounded her. There was a tight knot of worry in her gut as she looked to her side for her lying position.

Her worry dissipated when she saw the corpse of the sandworm laying in a bath of its own colorful blood not ten feet from where she was. On top of the corpse was Beetlejuice. His hands on his hips, inspecting the dead monster with a judging eye, giving it the occasional kick. He  _ really _ didn't like sandworms.

His eyes moved up from the body to notice the human agent awake.

Gone one second and back the next, he appeared right beside the resting woman's head. Crouching to meet her gaze, she saw confusion and mild respect for her insanity swimming in his amber eyes. Grace noticed that when he wasn't trying to impress or intimidate anyone his glowing yellow eyes were an amber color.

He speaks up, gravelly voice quieter than before.

"Hey G-dawg, you dead?"

The  _ G-dawg _ laying in front of him choked out a laugh and weakly shakes their head. After bull riding a sandworm and being thrown into a pile of trash the list of injuries she'd had before had grown by quite a few. Now not just her ribs and side, but her left arm and ankle also felt pretty darn broken. She was also like 80% sure she had a concussion. After a shaky breath Grace speaks up.

"Where..s..mm...duffel bag.."

"Oh!" he exclaims at the mention of the bag.

"You were out cold for, ah... quite a while hermano." He reaches for and picks up a bag from nearby

"Found your shit while you were,  _ otherwise occupied"  _ he laughs to himself, setting the bag on the blue tarps. Grace lifts a hand faintly pointing to the bag.

"Yllo..fl..gun.." She coughs out through terrible lung pain.

He reaches into the duffel up to his striped elbow, pulling out a yellow flare gun. Beetlejuice raises a questioning eyebrow at the item in his hand.

"Shoot..the signal flare." She says pointing to an access door. "Outside" she clarifies, a bit more lucid and able to work her words around the pain.

Beetlejuice wasn't sure what the fuck this had to do with anything, But he wasn't about to argue with the maybe dying NMPTE agent.

_ This shit can't get any weirder,  _ he thought as he left the agent and the warehouse behind him. With a wide stance and one hand in his pocket he fires the acid yellow flare into the afternoon sky above him.

His previous thought was soon proven very wrong as an envoy of about three black cars, a large van, and a huge flatbed truck pulled up within minutes.  _ Things could in fact get weirder. _

From each car a group of people wearing neon yellow coveralls poured toward the building holding large metal cases. A separate group of brightly colored workers had begun cordoning off the area in case of traffic coming through.

Beetlejuice was so busy watching the display he hadn't noticed one of the workers had approached him and was asking a question.

"Huh?" he said, turning his head to the woman now standing next to him.

"I  _ said _ , is the boss still on site?"

"Boss? What boss?" he said in an irritated tone.

The woman looked Japanese and had long black hair pulled back from her face. Her smooth skin was decorated with a whole jewelry store's worth of piercings.

"The BOSS" she repeated "...Agent Fornax" she amends seeing the confusion on his face.

Still unsure of the whole situation he sticks his thumb behind him motioning towards the warehouse.

"Ya, he's in there. He got the shit kicked outta him"

The worker looked at him strangely and made as if to correct him on something but stopped herself. She then spoke into a radio attached to the shoulder of her jumpsuit.

"The boss is still on site and needs medical attention, send in the med van guys."

At her words the van nearby opened, releasing a team of similarly dressed workers. The difference being the neon yellow of their suits were paired with white stripes running horizontal over the fabric. They looked like prisoners your mind would make up during a bad acid trip. They sprinted into the building holding equipment and a stretcher.

The demon stood with a frown and furrowed brows, orange and red slowly taking over his hair.

"THAT'S IT!" he yells "what the FLYING FUCK is GOING ON?"

He turns to the Japanese woman only to find her gone. His anger was starting to show as his spiked hair shifted almost entirely to red. He didn't know what was up. He didn't like  _ not knowing  _ what was up. His whole  _ thing _ was knowing stuff before anyone else and using it to his advantage. He thought he knew everything about the NMPTE's still breathing agent. He'd heard a lot of rumors about them through his contacts despite being under house arrest. Everything he'd heard said the guy was just the headquarters equivalent of a "mob fixer". Sent on errands to handle whatever random jobs they had topside. But everything around him was telling a different story! Breathers in uniforms calling him boss? Humans scrambling around, loading sandworm parts onto a truck? He wanted to get to the bottom of this, Scooby doo style if they cooperated, threats of bodily harm if they didn't.

As soon as he started marching towards the warehouse doors, he saw his summoner being carried out on a stretcher. An IV bag full of pain killers was attached to their arm and being held overhead by one of the workers, and bandages were wrapped tightly around their noggin. Turning to follow the med team, he watches as they set Getty up and attach him to a bunch of equipment.

The team pays him no head as he comes closer to Getty's head .

"Oh, Hey Beetlejuice. Didn't know you were still around." They said, speaking better than before even if their words were slurred by pain meds now.

"Hey, watch the "B" word, I have questions and I ain't leavin' till they're answered. Ya can start by telling me who the  _ night crawling fuck _ these guys are!"

"These guys are my associates, I'd call them family but that just makes us sound like a mafia, or a cult."

The workers shivered at the word cult while Getty answered calmly. That was apparently not the answer he wanted though.

"Don't gimme the vague ass " _ netherworld acceptable"  _ answer" he says keeping his voice steady despite his growing irritation "come on, man to man, what the hell is all this?"

His comment seemed to give the workers pause, even their boss seemed momentarily confused. The workers looked at their  _ very female _ boss and silently questioned what was wrong with this guy? Then Getty had a look of realization.

"Oh! Hehehe, at least I know the _thing_ still works."

At the comment the workers seemed to catch on to whatever they meant and started smiling and chuckling to themselves at the apparent inside joke.

Beetlejuice seethed at being ignored, and was gonna speak up when he got cut off again by another yellow clad breather sticking their head in the van door.

"So the normal handlin' then boss?" looking to the stretcher's occupant for an answer.

"Yup, don't touch it too much before you get it back for dismantling, worm blood stains  _ everything." _

They turn back to Beetlejuice as the latest worker disappears from view. Getty looks steady into his eyes, his hair shifting away from red while under the agent's gaze. With a calm seriousness fought for over the pain meds they speak.

"A lot has to happen topside for me to do my job properly without netherworld assets. They can hardly send _agents_ up here, you think they can afford to send me any help? Or god forbid, any supplies? To do what needs doing, I've had to get ... _ creative.  _ If we meet again I'll tell you _all_ about it"

They were being pulled further under by the pain medication as they spoke. A smile crossing their bruised face.

"You can expect the promised parole letter within three to five business days." Laughing to themselves over the common office phrase being used with a demon. Before Beetlejuice could add anything beyond that, Grace Getty Fornax sent him back to the location of his house arrest, where he'd been before being summoned into the monster mess.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

With a frustrated growl and a death glare thrown at the agent he disappeared.

"Seems like an interesting guy." the medic beside her commented with a joking smile.

"Ya, I like him. There's something about him."

"You say that about every demon you meet, at this point it's commentary on  _ your _ personality"

"Hehehe, you're probably right." Grace rolls her head into the pillow, letting the medication pumping through her veins take her further under on the way to the hospital.


	4. The aftermath of the hunt as seen from two separate planes of existence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons scheme and humans rest~

**_Meanwhile in the netherworld!_ **

Time and space were rent open, an invisible tear providing a moment of passage between planes of existence. 

The demon was dropped suddenly and without ceremony onto the old purple coach he knew all too well. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the reality of where he had returned. He wanted to keep them shut forever out of spite, but resolved himself to the situation after a few minutes. Opening his dark gold eyes he sees his roadhouse living room sprawled before him in all its trashed glory. Well, he used the term roadhouse loosely. It _used_ to be a roadhouse, but had been his place of residence for the last couple centuries. And despite no one being allowed inside, contrary to what a roadhouse is for, the name _BJ's roadhouse_ had stuck. He'd even put up a neon sign declaring it as such, mostly to piss off his neighbors.

Sitting there in his living room alone again, after being banished by Getty, he snapped.

"Freakin' asshat useless wet sock piece of shit! no good gutless shady ass human! dick bag easy bake oven six piece chicken Mc'nobody! USELESS ANSWER AVOIDIN' LOSER OF AN **EMPTY!"**

He roared springing to his feet and clenching his hands by his side, seething with the burst of emotion. Anger whipping through him like a sudden wildfire, fueled by the crazy day, sudden dismissal, and general annoyance. Though with how hot it burned, it didn't burn long. His explosive anger leaving him as suddenly as it had arrived.

Tension left his body leaving exhaustion, like a puppet whose strings were cut. Falling back into the torn cushions behind him, Beetlejuice lets his head slump over the back of the furniture.

He wasn't sure how to process his latest adventure topside. On the one hand he was getting more out of this than was normal for helping an NMPTE agent, if Getty made good on their deal. That made him happy.

On the other hand, he could tell something interesting was going on with that human agent and he'd been dismissed before finding out anything. That made him want to violently destroy a high rise building.

That breather had stuff happening behind the scenes and his instincts told him it was something good. He guessed they were flying under the netherworld radar, The vibe he got from them didn't exactly scream "HQ sanctioned activities."

He wondered for a moment if the guys up in the Asphodel planes knew about Fornax and his "Family".

As soon as he thought it though he disregarded the possibility. Asphodel management was in charge of people's fates, destiny, and other earthly affairs, all the shit that happened to people before they died. It sounds impressive, and it would be if they had done anything at all since the age of Moses. The supernatural community regularly ignores them, mostly because they haven't had a hand in anything but their own asses for centuries.

What all of this meant was that whatever Agent Fornax was doing wasn't being monitored by either of the major powers.

Beetlejuice could smell possibilities cooking, and by God/Satan he was gettin' himself a piece. His striped legs guided him back and forth across the floor, pacing in a flurry of thoughts. Schemes, scams, and half made plans rushed through his mind while he scratched at his rough stubble.

It wasn't until much later when a bundle of mail was violently chucked at his front door that he gets an idea. _Guess the mail delivery Imp still won't come near the door, not since last time._ he smiles at the memory.

He claws through the letters, re-death threats, coupons, blackmail, and the latest issue of _T_ _he Afterlife_ newspaper. All the mail was shredded in his hands to tiny pieces and scattered around the room. All but one letter that read~

**A direct letter of summons from:**

~Netherworld ghost and demon correction headquarters~ ( **NGDC** )

**To the demon of the residence:**

~Lawrence Betelgeuse Shaggoth~

_The date for the next general parole hearing has been scheduled. A prompt attendance is required. Failure to attend will result in further punishment and a delay in any future parole. This will be the last notice until the day of the hearing~_

Blah Blah Blah.

The pieces were practically putting themselves together. All it would need is a word here, a nudge there, practically nothing from him. It wouldn't even count as manipulation, he'd be doing everyone involved a favor! well, everyone except Getty Fornax.

"Oohoho Ya" He rasped "It's all comin' together"

Maybe things were starting to turn around for him? So many things had gone so wrong. But clawing his way back no matter what was what he always did. And maybe this time the universe wouldn't go out of its way to kick him in the crotch, as was its favorite pastime. Maybe something chaotic and great would happen that could distract him from how lonely he felt. Maybe.

A smile that seemed filthy in its intent formed across his face. Though in all honesty it was the most genuine smile he'd had in decades, few would recognize it as such.

**_Meanwhile in the Earthly realm!_ **

It had been years since Grace had been in a public hospital. The last time, her view of the hospital had been from a bed in the intensive care unit. Not that she wasn't constantly being injured on the job, But normal doctors just weren't equipped for, say, a curse meant to cause total paralysis and _literal_ crawling skin. _Ya, that one had been fun_.

Of course the injuries that come with the job weren't the only thing to plague her. The weight she normally carried had nothing to do with broken ribs, and has been there longer than any hazardous job. Not that anyone would be able to tell at first glance, or second glance. She was very good at controlling how people saw her. From an outside perspective Grace had made amazing strides since her _little_ _accident_ so many years ago _._ The picture of success. She had checked every box on the happy life to do list. She had everything she needed.

She had everything she needed.

_I have everything I need._

Of course, sound and logical arguments did little to eradicate the feeling of swimming through mud under the pressure of thousands of gallons of water. Not as well as she wanted them to anyway.

The loneliness was the worst feeling in her rogues gallery of pain. During quiet moments the loneliness would bubble to the surface. Though with time and practice the loneliness now rises to see her waiting with a shovel in hand, ready to rebury it.

Sitting in the quiet of the hospital Grace finds herself facing the dark ugly thoughts once again. _I have neither the time nor energy for this right now._ Opting to instead handle a small pile of paperwork her assistant had brought her on request.

Grace Fornax was a lively person. dedicated, fun loving, social. Passionate about her interests and taking care of her friends. Ever since her _incident_ as a kid, she looked at herself and those around her with a warmer light. It was this kind of thinking that had saved her from the bottom of her pit of despair. Even if the pit was still there... It was because of this that she was so scared of indulging her dark thinking enough to confront the depression that had always stuck around.

As if the action of touching it would make it real again. Real enough to swallow her like it had the first time.

The soft beeping of the machines around her stayed constant while she worked steadily from one document to the next. The occasional shuffling of feet and quiet clattering of moving equipment sounded through her door from the hallway outside.

with the task of paperwork holding her attention the turmoil sank beneath the topsoil of her mind. Gone for now.

The small white room felt detached from the world. Letting her focus on the documents that covered the small table that reached across the bed. The shit ton of painkillers running through her probably helped a little too.

The room's quiet is broken when a nurse pushes through the door with a tray of food for her patient.

The nurse got one look at Grace hunched over her paperwork and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Not a moment after feeding Grace she lectured her on proper rest with all the power of a mother scolding a child. The folders were set aside in favor of laying down and watching television. With a satisfied smile and nod the nurse left.

And there Grace stayed, watching shows and dozing in and out of sleep until the sun touched the horizon, filling the room with orange light. Propping herself upright again she pulled over another handful of paperwork. There was one last thing to finish before the day was out. Opened across the narrow table she writes the report on the days earlier events.

Grace was an agent of her word, the report she penned looked favorably on Beetlejuice. Sighting several moments of bravery and excellent teamwork on the demons part (slightly exaggerated of course.) And pinned to the report was a written copy of her parole recommendation for the troublesome ghoul.

The other written letter containing her recommendation was addressed directly to the NGDC parole board.

She wasn't worried about the favor she was doing for him. It would be of little consequence. With how long his rap sheet was, the letter from a single NMPTE agent would do little to help his chances at parole. A bucket of water in an ocean, she was sure.

With this done Grace lay under the hospital sheets and did her best to sleep.


	5. About two months later, interesting news, and an interesting guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are made and guests arrive~

About two months have passed since  _ "the stripey bastard incident",  _ so dubbed because of how many stripey bastards were present (herself included.) She was mobile and free of most of her injuries at this point. Though her leg was still very weak after the break. Headquarters had her on leave of absence because of how busted up she'd gotten. Grace wouldn't be given any new work for another two weeks.

After rolling up to the hospital in pieces, the doctors there had told her she had a badly broken leg , four broken ribs, harsh abrasion burns on her arms, and several severe bruises and lacerations.

Total recovery was still a little while off.

With more recovery ahead the last thing she expected was for her tall, off kilter fireplace to spit green flames before suddenly extinguishing.

She'd gotten mail, and from HQ no less.

Grace's narrow fingers sifted through the freezing cold ash in the hearth until they met the hard edge of a letter. Pulling a thick, dark purple envelope from the pile of soot, a look of annoyed confusion settles on her face.

"I get that they're always short on hands down there but sweet Jesus on a tortilla, I can still hardly walk! What are they expecting me to do now?"

She half wondered if she could get away with pretending to have never seen the letter. Eyes narrowing she examines the paper with a more discerning eye.

"What business does the parole department have with me?" She whispered after reading who the sender was.

Grace had a nagging feeling she knew what this was about.

From the fireplace in the center of her home she totes the letter down one of the halls, hobbling to her office. Sitting in a large greenish leather chair behind the desk, her hand finds the ceremonial dagger she used as a letter opener waiting on its surface. With a swift tear it cuts the letter open, dumping the contents on the wood before her.

Holding the paper in her hand Fornax's eyes travel its length, pausing at the bottom before rereading the whole thing again. And then reading it again.

After repeating this several times her hands fly down slapping the table.

"What they FLYING FUCKERY are they trying to SHOVE OFF ON ME!"

Breathing deeply through her nose Grace began the long process of calming herself. She wasn't angered by much, it took a lot to rile her, but when she got there it took a lot to cool back down.

Soft steps sounded outside the door before it was pushed open revealing a woman with long black hair and a face full of flashy silver piercings.

"Boss, you alright? I heard you shout from all the way~"

Her words cut short when Grace's hand was raised requesting silence. Several minutes of measured breathing and muttered cursing pass before she lowers her hand, slumping into the chair.

The other woman takes this as permission to approach. She walks around to the other side of the desk and rests her arm on the green chair, looking over Grace's shoulder at the object of her bosses rage.

"Hey Tia," Grace says with her forehead held in one hand "weren't you off to get another piercing today? Somewhere in the city right?" Tia looks down at Grace with a smirk tugging at her mouth.

"I finished up early, pretty sure I was weirding them out anyway. Especially when they found out where I live."

This brings a smile to Grace's face and they both laugh at the all too common reaction others had towards her and the town of "Family" members.

"You went somewhere cool though right? That new place down~" Grace starts but is stopped this time by Tia's hand.

"Based on your volume form earlier, there are more pressing matters afoot my friend, don't try to stall."

Shifting her hand around and pointing at the accursed file still in front of them. Grace starts laughing to herself again, jabbing her finger onto the document.

"I've been tasked with the watch and handling of a soon to be on parole demon."

Grace's assistant stands with her in stunned silence for a moment.

"You're gonna be a parole officer?"

"Yup"

"It's not your department"

"Eeeyup"

"It's not your job."

"Mhm"

"You're still injured."

"Very much so, yes"

"It's a demon, and you're only human!"

Grace nods along with everything her friend says.

"You don't even know this guy,"

"You've nailed every single one on the head 'cept that one T," the sitting woman says "I  _ have _ met him, and so have you"

Tia raises a pierced eyebrow doubtfully.

"He was at the last job sight." understanding dawns on the assistant.

"THAT guy?" She says, remembering the striped dead man. She grabs the document from its place and reads it over quickly, soaking in the information and working it all out in her head. 

She looks over the edge of the document at her friend. Eyes narrowing conspiratorially after looking over the file. Looking up and meeting her eyes Grace smiles at her.

"Something you want to share with the class miss Hayashi?"

Tia's smile turns evil as she lowers the paper further.

"It won't be all bad,"

"And your reasoning?"

"..."

"He's totally your type."

It took a moment for her brain to process the words.

"WHAT! I don't have a  _ type _ , who, other than  _ he who shall not be named _ have you ever even seen me date that would give you insight into my  _ type _ ?!"

"Well, ya. But he's handsome! ... Probably. Maybe under all the deadness. Not my cup of tea, but I think if you  _ had _ a type, it would be demons with dark eye circles."

Grace buried her head in her arms over the desk. After suppressing the flush that had crossed her face at the  _ TOTALLY UNWARRANTED _ comments, she looked at her assistant with a deadpan look.

The deadpan look sends Tia into a fit of laughter.

"Thank you Tia, for your wonderful assistance today. But OH! Look at the time!" gesturing to her imaginary wrist watch. "Break time already! I insist you take a break before you lose your mind further."

This of course made her assistant laugh harder.

Grace rolls her eyes. She can't really be mad at Tia for her prodding. She knew her love life, or rather  _ lack thereof _ , was a popular topic in the company. Standing from the green cobra back chair Grace stumbles over her still weak cast covered leg, but is caught by the sure arms of her assistant.

"Hehehe, sorry about needing the extra help these days." she says, being helped out of the office.

"Where are you off to in a hurry all of a sudden boss?" Her human crutch asked.

"The bureaucrats have spoken, my dear friend. I cannot halt the flow of paperwork anymore than I can halt the flow of time. There is nothing to do but prepare the house for our long term guest." Grace spoke with a polished British accent for added effect.

"Oh my god, you sound like a rich old baron who has to take care of the orphaned children of his no good, dead brother." Tia says as they leave the room and head for another part of the house.

"It'll be more like safety proofing the house in preparation for a new puppy. Demons like getting into  _ everything _ ... and biting things."

At this thought Grace could only imagine a picture of a small angry green dog wearing striped pants. Laughing to herself she places her hand on the door she and Tia now stood in front of. The door was covered in a complex looking pattern in a sticky looking paint, like it had never fully dried. The door led to her ingredients pantry, which opens with the touch of her hands, glowing very faintly.

Looking at her friend, Grace leans against the doorframe smirking.

"Since you're  _ drowning _ in free time you wouldn't mind helping me right?"

Her sass gets her a stink eye and heavy sigh in return.

"Alright, lay it down for me boss. How much needs to be done? What's our time frame?"

"We've got a week." she says, filling a cardboard box with strange ingredients from the shelves, topping it off with a cask of virgin blood. Tia eyes the chosen items with a face that says  _ really, you're going that far? Paranoid much? _

"Get ready dude, this week's gonna be busy, oh and set up the guest room."

"You're gonna have him stay in the house!?" she asks incredulously.

Though a lot of workers came through the house since she kept artifacts and equipment there, and there were two maids who cleaned and cooked occasionally, Grace was the only one who actually lived in the old haunted looking building. When there was nothing going on, she lived alone in its halls. Most everyone assumed she preferred it this way.

"That's actually something they decided for me. And if you think that's ridiculous you should read the other guidelines they expect me to follow, It's practically inhuman the rules they have in place. I'm gonna be on the spirit phone for hours at this point talking about parole parameters alone."

The boss laughs tiredly to themselves, picturing vividly the long hours ahead of them. She pulls out a pad of paper from a nearby drawer and writes down instructions for Tia to distribute. Filling her pockets with a couple items, Grace hobbles off, leaving the rest of the box and the To Do list with her secretary.

"No disturbances for the rest of the day T, I'm gonna be elbow deep in my personal ward, _for who knows how long_ " she mutters the last words mostly to herself before leaving the rest in the hands of her team.

_ I'm probably just overreacting. It's just being a parole officer. But jeez, they really do stick me with the weirdest jobs. It won't even be that much work I bet. He'll be free to his own devices mostly, if he values his freedom he won't fuck shit up.  _ She reasons, stepping up to her en suite bathroom door.

That door held the strongest ward and deceit charm in the whole house. And she was about to reinforce it again. If her house guest manages to get in anywhere, it won't be here. She'd be sure of that.

Magic wards weren't nearly as glamorous and cool as she wished they were. Instead of fancy chants and magic lights, it was more hands on work. It involved a wide rainbow of different fluids and gunk. For most of it Grace felt like her hands were in a living creature's innards. Warm, damp, squishy, and alive. _Magic was funny like that._

Her arms were covered up to the elbows in three different kinds of supernatural goo and the sun had long since set by the time she was done. Exhausted and still covered in goo, Grace falls asleep on top of her covers. Legs tangled in a blanket, she drifts off with a million scenarios running through her head.

**~ _A week later~_**

Seven days had passed and on the day of the specters arrival Grace was waiting in the foyer of her strange home.

She looked down at the arrival notice held in her neon orange painted fingertips. It detailed the comings and goings of ghouls and demons who had permits for entering the earthly realm. The fourth name on the list was Beetlejuice, and he would be crossing through customs in about 20min. Her assistant stood beside the entrance with a man named Daniel, the head of their security and secrecy, though he didn't look it. He was accompanying them in case they needed an extra pair of hands.

The time ticked closer to demon-O-clock, while other workers bustled through the house like any other day. A few of them wore the bright acid yellow jumper that was the signature of the company.

While waiting, Agent Fornax sat in a dark armchair having a fervent discussion with a worker who had come with a question. Apparently a client file needed updating and something else about Joseph, their leather worker being too sick to process monster skins as of late. It was a month away from October which meant her small company was hitting its busy season, and her full plate kept her distracted.

Distracted enough that she didn't hear as heavy footsteps crossed her front porch towards the door.

Daniel and Tia seemed to notice though. But before they could even approach the doors, both heavy wooden slabs were thrown open.

Well, kicked open was more likely, as in place of the doors was an outstretched boot. The boot was on the end of a striped leg that crossed the threshold with a flourish. The lights went out and a spotlight with no discernable origin shone down on Beetlejuice as he strode into the home's entrance.

He was in the black and white suit Grace remembered him in, with a pair of dark sunglasses and a travel pillow around his neck. Leading with his hips he made his way to the center of the room, closer to Grace and her small table. In each hand he held a large black travel case, both decorated in cheezy tourist stickers displaying past travels.

"Nice place, good crowd, I like it already!"

He looked around the room, very pleased with his entrance. Most everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to gape at the flamboyant demon. He wasn't expecting this many people would be able to see him at once without being summoned and it was an unexpected bonus.

The clack of a pen being placed down broke the spell, snapping the workers out of staring. Grace had put her work aside and stood to face The Beetle.

"The train ride here was  **killer** on my joints, rigor mortis settin' in like I'm a month old corpse left out in an ice field fer the birds." The demon growled with a smirk, like his comment about dead guy problems was something hilarious everyone could relate to.

Smiling and cocking her head to the side she takes slow steps around the demon looking him up and down. His suit was less dirt covered, now seemingly just overly dusty, and his pointed boots had a higher shine on them. She hadn't taken him for a good first impressions kinda guy.

She had to check him for weapons and contraband as per the guidelines, but she wasn't gonna search him, if he could keep it out of sight she would let him have his things to himself. Though just a cursory check she couldn't help thinking about Tia's "handsome" comment. Grace stops and turns away to distract from herself from the thoughts.

Beetlejuice watches as Getty looks him over, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm flattered really. And I know I'm irresistibly sexy, but I don't swing that was G-dawg, not into dudes. Let's keep this professional, ya?" The demon drawled in an attempt to get a rise from the agent.

It didn't get to Getty as much as his companions.

The comment added to the hilariousness of the situation and Tia finally cracked, a sudden outburst of laughter coming from the secretary over the magical misunderstanding.

"Criminy Tia, it's not  _ THAT _ funny!" Grace calls in an exhausted and slightly embarrassed tone.

"It  _ IS  _ though! It's so funny! He doesn't *wheeze* He doesn't know that you're a...hahaha!!" Anything else she was going to say cut off by her own laughter. Her arms supported herself on Daniels shoulder as she folded in the middle with more wheezing laughs. Daniel did his best to stand her up and help her out of the room but was fighting his own laughter, so they both just kind of... fell into another room still cracking up.

Beetlejuice had been stunned by the sudden bout of laughter, But got his bearings again quickly, looking over to Getty.

"What was up with chuckle shits over there?" he said, smirking. "Do you strike out with demons enough that it's a running joke for your pals?"

The human rolled their eyes at the jab.

Determined to be a good host, the next step was getting his bags to his room. Getty eyed the large black cases he had dropped at his feet, grabbing the handle of one and testing how heavy it was. They tugged but were unable to move it at all. They threw their weight back, but the case still didn't move.

"What kind of thor's hammer bullshit?!" they said under their breath.

Beetlejuice heard them, stood there, and laughed.

Getty gave up quickly, letting go of the handle. Then they did something he was not expecting. They left Beetle standing in the foyer, leaving down one of the hallways, returning a minute later with someone else in tow.

Upon seeing who their new friend was, He took a step back.

"They let monsters like that hang out, topside!?" he said, eyes open in surprise.

"He's human, and his name is Ozwald. Oz, can you take his bags to his room?"

Beetle was certain  _ Oz _ was a monster and not the human Getty said he was. He was thick as a tree and absolutely huge, just barely making it through the doors. It didn't help when the guy, who was at least two heads taller, stepped up and grabbed his cases like they were nothing. The cases were weighed down with magic, it was one of his favorite jokes. He used it to intimidate newbies with his demonic strength.

He was starting to really wonder what kind of house he stepped into. Every person in the place was stranger than the last. And at the top of it all was Getty, the most _seemingly_ normal dude there.

"Thanks Ozzy, impressive as always." Getty said with a smile.

The big man blushed. Shrugging his shoulders, smiling nervously down at them, then glancing at Beetlejuice.

"Careful with that one tiny boss, wouldn't trust anyone with luggage this heavy" he said in a mumble before giving his tiny boss another smile and leaving the demon and human alone again.

"This place is fuckin' weird" Beetlejuice whispered to himself.

For once not knowing what to do he tilts his head to Getty, getting a good look at his host for the first time since arriving.

In blatant contrast to the simple black clothes and striped jacket he'd met them in, their current clothing damn near outshined his own in offensive eccentricity.

Getty was sporting a bright Hawaiian shirt with neon orange as the dominant color in the flowers and palm tree pattern. The agent's nails were painted to match, and his brightly colored shoes had lights that flickered on and off when he walked. He wore purple capris that ended in black and white striped socks down his ankles. around their neck, over the shirt, was a palm sized silver medallion on a silver chord.

Then he looked at the agent's face, seeing the same dark overshadowed eyes and long fly away hairs at their hairline, as if they once had bangs and the grown out hair refused to behave.

"Ah jeez" Getty whispers looking at their watch. "Come with me B-man, schedules gettin tight and I've got shit to do"

"Nicknames again huh? I know it's a  _ mouthful _ but I take pride in my brand, my name is my reputation after all" holding his hand over his black heart in mock hurt.

"What, and summon you by accident? I'm not that dumb. You're not in banishment anymore so you have a little more of your powers, but you're also still on parole. I know they explained all this to you, don't try me." Getty said with an unimpressed look.

"Eh, a guys gotta try."

Getty laughed to themselves, walking ahead of the demon.

"Pick up the pace dead man, I'm gonna show you the house"

"Ya, but I'd much rather your hot secretary show me around. That little lady with the rad piercings, you can tell she's into some weird stuff."

Getty continued working their way through the house ignoring his comments.

"How'd ya get someone that smokin' to work for ya? You guys a thing? You got an open reservation for that  _ particular venue _ ?" he said nudging Getty with a sleazy smile.

It continued like that for most of the tour, beetle making inappropriate comments and Getty occasionally laughing or glaring at him in turn. 

It was a long tour.


	6. Beetlejuice gets to know the house and the host.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are explained, some things aren't~

Getty pointed out important paths, rooms, and other features of the large house. And it was just that, a large house, not a mansion or a fortress, or mafia headquarters, or cult epicenter. It was just a BIG house. Though a very strange one.

One thing that struck Beetlejuice was how dark and creepy the house was. Ornate and strange talismans graced the halls. Surreal landscape paintings hung on the oddly patterned wallpaper. And once again he noticed the presence of black and white stripes in place of traditional accent walls.

And really, to each their own. He personally liked it  _ A LOT _ , would only change a few things really. But what the  _ actual fuck _ ? Getty stuck out like a sore thumb in his rainbow dipped magnum P.I. getup. He was a mix of occult worshipper living their best life in the catacombs and a jet ski instructor from a teen beach movie. He wasn’t sure which aspect was actually them. He mentally wrestled with it.

Beetle didn’t like people he couldn’t get a read on. That was  _ his _ job.

He hadn’t noticed they stopped walking until he was pulled from his thoughts by Getty gripping his upper arm to get his attention.

“Whoa~” he whispers aloud. Been awhile since someone living touched him. Close to 600 years he thinks. He didn’t count the depressed goth from his last job, he preferred to pretend none of that had happened.  _ Not awesome memories. _

The touch threw him for a bit of a loop. He could feel the living heat through his sleeve and how it lingered on his skin. He’d forgotten how different human heat was. It was nothing like, say, throwing yourself in a volcano, or haunting a nude bath house.  _ Not that he’d ever done either of these _ .

“Wazzat?” he says looking up from his arm.

“I  _ said _ this is the one room you’ll never enter” Getty repeats, pointing to a black door.

They stood in Getty’s bedroom facing the ominous black door. He wondered for a moment why the bedroom was apparently free game compared to the little black door. Beetlejuice could feel the ward of protection as well as a strong deceit charm. He couldn’t tell what it was hiding though,  _ deceit charm, duh. _

“Well well well, what do we have here?” he asks with a lilting voice, reaching out to touch it.

Getty slaps his hand away giving him a dirty look, glaring at him. The Beetle smiles back.

“This is my personal bathroom and I keep my more private things in there as well.”

Every word makes him smile bigger. Getty leans closer, arms crossed, suspicious of his smile.

“I should tell you that crossing any wards placed by me is a parole violation.” they say with a smirk.

Grimacing and placing his hands on his hips Beetlejuice tilts his head.

“You got this job, what, like a week ago? And suddenly you're an expert parole officer?”

“I just read the handbook for officers” they say deadpan.

“HAHA, nice try pal! There ain’t no such thing!”

Instead of dignifying that with a verbal response Getty begins walking down another hall, waving for Beetlejuice to follow. The agent stops in front of a set of double doors, turning into the room beyond them.

The room was in fact the library of the house. Upon seeing the mass quantity of books it’s the demon’s turn to give Getty a deadpan look

“Of course  _ you'd _ like this kinda stuff. Fuckin' nerd”

Getty rolls their eyes and moves to one of the shelves, pulling a brown hardback book from a row of similar looking books. Turning with the book in hand the agent sees that the moment they had looked away, the striped poltergeist had begun making a tower from the books around him. holding the book and taking careful aim at the distracted man's torso she decides now would be a great moment to get payback for his shenanigans till now. By hitting him. With a book.

The demon was focused on his growing tower of books when he hears the breather behind him say something that sounded like _yeet_. _What's a yeet?_ Was all he had time to think before Immediately getting pegged between the shoulder blades with a heavy projectile. Pushing him forward into his book stack replica of the tower of Babylon, toppling it over.

“What the H-E-double FUCK was that for!?” he snarks.

Looking down he finds the offending book and looks it over.

“Ya, real cute. But I’ve seen the  **_handbook for the recently deceased_ ** before.”

“Take a closer look ya circus clown” Getty says, arms folded.

Eyeing the book again he realizes the difference the human was pointing out. The title of the book read  **_the handbook for recently appointed officers : NGDC edition_ ** . The out of date graphic on the cover showing an agent in their red uniform instead of the classic dead couple looking to the horizon.

“Yer tellin' me there's MORE of these Satan forsaken things!”

“Not surprised you don’t know about this stuff. None of the rules in these apply to folks who aren’t civil servants. You can’t even get your hands on ‘em if they aren’t given to you for your job.”

Getty gestures their colorful hand towards the shelf of origin, filled with a row of other books just like it. Beetlejuice locks onto the shelf and swings his legs over the table and scattered books to get a closer look. Bending down he starts reading each spine while mumbling furiously to himself, pausing to look at Getty.

“Wait… then how the hell did you get a hold of so many? There's shit here about casework, monsters, accounting, human ritual murder regulation, and PARKING VIOLATIONS!? They have a whole handbook for that!??” he raised his eyebrows, staring at the agent waiting for an answer. The agent shifted from foot to foot, scratching their jaw, looking around the room a bit awkwardly.

“Well that’s… they send me on a lot of different jobs. Anything they need done topside really. It’s like... how do I put this. Right, I have all the rules and obligations of a full time government employee, but the workload of someone like an intern who needs the money and works for every department at once. Ya that about sums it up.”  _ not that I even get paid human money. _

The agent looked exhausted just thinking about it. _Huh,_ Beetlejuice thinks, _I guess that's where the rumors of him being like a mob fixer come from. they really do stick him with any random job._

“ I get jobs from HQ maybe, once or twice a month?”

The demons brow furrowed, taking in the new info and the way Getty was acting. _Does he not like talking about his job?_ Beetle Stands to pace and talk to himself, seemingly out of some habit he may have formed when no one could see him.

For the second time that day it took Graces hand making contact with his arm to shake him from the mental gymnastics. Pulling him away from the book's, Grace leads them out of the library.

“You can mess around in here later, you should get settled first.”

Still holding his arm they head towards the guest room

“Can't keep yer hands off me huh?” he says, glancing at their hand with a smirk. Briefly startled Grace pulls her hand back to her side. Beetlejuice snakes an arm over his parole officers shoulders, taking advantage of their shorter stature to lean on them.

“You're a cute guy, and I’m flattered. But unless it’s an orgy I don’t get  _ touchy _ or  _ feely _ with guys”

His tone was condescending and over the top, finishing it off by tapping Grace on the end of the nose with an infuriating  _ boop _ . Pulling back he leans on the door frame they stood in front of.

“No hard feelings though my man, I want us to be pals” smiling and extending a hand to shake like he actually took any of his own words seriously, and not just as a way to get under the breathers skin.

Grace rolls her eyes, backhanding his own hand away. Though she did smile and laugh lightly through her nose. She had to admit the misunderstanding was kinda funny.

She hadn’t been given a lot from the Netherworld when she started her job. But she had been given one very special thing, from a very important person. That was her personal illusion, magic, net, veil… thing. It didn’t have a name because it was made just for her, but she called it her  _ stripes. _ She could wear it as a pair of socks, a hat, or a jacket. It could look like anything,  _ be  _ anything. But it would always be covered in stripes, even if she tried to paint it.  _ magic's funny like that. _

The affect of her stripes was high grade illusion magic. For those who didn’t know her real identity she looked different in lots of ways. It was a crapshoot most of the time. She didn’t decide what identity the magic showed others. Of course each alternate image was never too far from what she actually looked like, just enough so that eyewitness accounts were never consistent.

Apparently though, the magic made her more masculine in Beetlejuice's eyes. It was definitely a first, and she wondered why it didn’t do that to anyone else she knew. Grace didn’t like removing the magic though. It made her feel naked, and vulnerable. So she figured if it wasn’t hurting anyone she’d let the misunderstanding slide without correction.

She did think briefly on his comments of not being attracted to her because he thought she was a guy, but gave up on the train of thought quickly. _It's not like it would change anything. Beetlejuice wouldn't be attracted to me even if he knew I was a woman. I'm **me.** And I'm a cop. **And** I'm his parole officer. So there's no harm done~_

Without pausing she pushes open the dark maroon red door in front of her, showing the simple interior of the guest room. The walls painted white, save the accent wall in a plain dusty green. The large king size bed was made up with dark grey bedding, and a thick beige carpet underfoot. It didn’t speak at all to the demons tastes, but Grace figured he would change that on his own with time.

Sitting beside the bed was his black luggage. On top of the bed was a small pamphlet full of info he’d need. Beyond that was a door to an en suite bathroom. Whether he’d use it, or if he'd  _ ever  _ used one was still questionable.

Beetlejuice slides past her to look at the room. He floats around the space while Grace explains things.

“You can do whatever you want with the room, and that packet has the rules and how far you can roam, cause ya know, parole.”

“UUUGH more rules, a’ course” he growls flopping onto the bed in a flourish. “Your gonna be a wet sock about everything aren’tchya.” eyeing Grace unhappily.  _ He could see where this was going. _

“Ya, just throw me in a back room, keep me from any fun. Satan forbid the demon’s seen getting some action or going to someplace like a strip club,  _ what would the neighbors think!”  _ with every word he was working himself up into a tizzy, despite the human in the room saying nothing.

“Your jumping to a lot of conclusions for someone who hasn’t even read the rules yet”

“Why should I bother!? Breathing or not, you're an enforcer, a cop. And you think like all the others.”

_ Okay ouch, that hurt way more than it should. _ Grace thought, feeling the sting of his words. She looked at the dead man on the bed, he was looking more put out than actually angry.  _ He’s probably gone through something like this before. _

“Well you're wrong on all counts bug boy.” they counter, with a glare that says  _ if you jump to one more conclusion it’ll be down a pit of spikes. _

“Wait… what?” Beetle sits up with a curious raise of eyebrows “say again?” this time with a little bit of hope.  _ Maybe this breather has more slack in their leash? _

“If you’d read the pamphlet before climbing my goddamn tree, you’d know you can go anywhere in the house and neighborhood. And I’m not gonna try to stop you from getting laid, that just  _ sounds _ like a headache. The last thing I need is a sexually frustrated demon roaming the halls.”

Now bouncing on the bed like a kid Beetlejuice gives Grace his creepiest smile.

“You can do what you want, but if I get a  _ SINGLE _ harassment notice, I’ll consider it a parole violation. Then you’ll  _ really  _ be stuck in here.”

The gremlin bouncing on the bed jumps up through the air to Grace. He grabs the agent, pinning their arms in a hug while spinning them around.

“OH BUDDY OL’ PAL! I thought you were gonna be a wet sandwich but you're NOT! We’re gonna be such good friends, you're never gonna regret this!”

While he laughs and cackles Grace pulls herself from the spinning hug with a flustered expression, red all the way to her ears. She was fine with hugs, loved them as a rule, but was always the instigator and wasn’t used to someone else striking first.

Watching him come down from the spiral Grace elaborates.

“The neighborhood is under my watch... guard, domain? I guess in cop terms it’s kinda my own personal beat? Everyone living here is an employee or their family.” she wasn’t the best with words when describing her business without making it sound like a cult. “Most everyone here is in tune with the occult and paranormal”

“Whoa! Seriously? Is this place a cult!?”

_ And there it is. _

Grace sighs, laughing under her breath.

“Well, you're half right, kinda.” This gets a raised eyebrow in question from the dead man.

“About half the folks working for me were part of a cult. Went looking for open minded people and found a group about to off themselves. Though I couldn’t convince them all, and about half still drank the kool aid. They weren’t crazy, per- _say._ But definitely depressed, spiritual, and unsure what to do with their lives. Gave ‘em jobs and Boom! Then others like us started moving in 'cause  _ kindred spirits _ and all that. Pretty soon no one in the neighborhood wasn’t at least a tarot reader or hedge witch. Kinda pushed the normies out.”

Grace walks to the room's window waving a hand for him to look. Beetlejuice goes over and looks out the window with her.

From the window he sees what must have once been a normal suburban neighborhood. But somewhere along the line, the strange inhabitants began reflecting on their environment.

The streets now filled with houses nearly as weird as the one he stood in. Yards filled with headstones, twisting trees, and wild grass. The home’s painted in crazy ways from dark to neon colors. Iron work fences and ominous stone statues could be seen between houses.

The people he saw walking around matched the scenery well, some even wearing the bright yellow jumpsuits that labeled them as employees on the job. It reminded Beetlejuice a bit of the Netherworld if he was being honest. He hadn't seen stuff like this in the human world since that wave of secret societies a couple centuries ago in Europe.  _ (spoiler alert, they weren't that secret) _

In the distance he could see a city skyline. With his eyes still glued to the window he mumbles to himself.

“Different strokes fer different folks…”

He had no clue what all this craziness was, but he realized his instincts had been correct from the beginning. Getty did have stuff going on. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

_ Dealin’ with bland white bread idiots is half the reason I’m stuck in this half bound pathetic state, but these people.  _ He thought to himself.  _ Socially liberal but fiscally conservative, oh ya, I’m gonna have fun here. _

“Don’t make any creepy plans BJ, I’m in charge of everyone here  _ and  _ you. Which means they know I’m handling a demon who’s on parole. They don't know your name, or much about you, but they know you're here and they’ll act accordingly.” Grace says with a knowing smile.

“What!? AAAWWWW come on!” he pouts, throwing his hands in the air and falling back onto his haunches. Bits of his hair turned a brownish red as he slouched into his heels “stuck with half my powers and now you’ve taken my element of surprise and mystery!”

“Aw, don’t pout. There’ll be plenty of people in halloween town that’ll be surprised by you.” she says as if talking to a toddler.

He perks up looking at Getty.

“Halloween town? What loser did you hire to name this place?”

Grace glares playfully down at him shrugging.

“The city normies used it as an insult till we started using it ourselves.”

Beetlejuice stands to lean on the window frame, both of them looking out across the small makeshift haven for the fringes of regular society.

“This place built itself before I even noticed. It’s my favorite part of all this” Grace whispered mostly to herself. But Beetles pointed demon ears heard it. Genuine feelings weren’t usually shared when he was around, unless they were genuine feelings of hatred. He debated whether or not to respond, never having been in such a situation.

The decision was made for him when Grace realized how long the light outside had gotten and moved to leave.

“Settle in B-man, breakfast is at 9:00 if you feel like eating” giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. With the clack of the handle and the click of the closing door, Grace was gone.

Beetlejuice had tensed at the shoulder squeeze. The very obvious display of casual friendship made him pause. The cops and agents he’s dealt with before now all wanted to squeeze his neck with a garrote, not squeeze his shoulder with  _ affection. _ That was… new.

The ends of his hair shifted strand by strand back to green as he went from being annoyed at Getty to just being tired. He had to admit, it was nice here. The air in most of the Netherworld was still and dead like everything there. Even when there was wind, it was disorienting and stale. It was fine for ghosts and ghouls who couldn’t feel anything anymore, but it did a real number on demons who got a taste for earthly air and then had to go back. He stands and moves to the bed, face planting into the pillows. Holding still, he could feel the room's mild air shift over his skin.

A gravelly sigh drags out of his mouth as he rolls onto his back, the bed shifting quietly under his weight.

Being a demon he didn’t  _ need _ sleep, but something about the earthly realm always could make him tired. He falls asleep with one last thought.  _ I guess not everything here is shitty. Parole might just be bearable. _

A similar thought crosses Grace's mind as she climbs into bed.

Pulling the covers up to her neck, Grace struggled with reconciling the person described in the file and the one she just spent most of the day with. Evil, malicious, and dangerous? Maybe. A more fitting description in her mind was annoying, perverted, and shifty. Nothing that wasn’t already present in some of the crummier humans she’d met.

_ Well, I’ve got nothing but time to figure out what the truth is. He’ll be here for a while, and he wasn’t boring that's for sure. Being his parole officer might just be bearable. _


	7. Tia and Beetlejuice take a trip to “the company”.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BJ finds out his parole officer's company has everything he wants and more~

Beetlejuice woke the next day when he rolled too far to one side, falling off the bed to the floor.

"Okay, OW... a few hundred years in the Nether and a guy gets used to sleepin' in coffins ya can't roll out of." his voice was especially rough from sleep, like a busted coffee grinder someone forgot to unplug.

Standing to stretch he could hear his joints popping like crazy.

"Like a goddamn string a' firecrackers. What's a guy gotta do to get some relief from rigor mortis around here?"

A quick roll in the sheets could always loosen him up, but the only game in town were the humans within his parole parameters, and he'd never had a whole lotta luck with breathers in that department. Apparently spectrophilia wasn't at the top of many bucket lists, no matter how  _ spiritual _ they said they were.

Throwing his head back and running his hands through his hair he resigned himself to just getting breakfast.

Before leaving for the kitchen he stands in front of his door. Beetlejuice's unnaturally long striped and forked mauve tongue rolls out of his mouth to meet his hand. He licks the palm of his hand, covering it in saliva and faintly glowing ectoplasm. He slaps the wet hand onto the center of the door, leaving a glowing and kind of drippy handprint on the painted surface.

Satisfied with his work he straightens his lapels and continues toward the kitchen. It wasn't like the fancy and complicated wards Getty had put up, but it would keep nosey nellies from messing with his shit.

Stepping through the open archway leading to the kitchen Beetlejuice is met with a table full of food. The room itself was pretty simple. A kitchen made for lots of baking, though it looked like it'd never been used for that. Nothing stuck out aside from the strange poison ivy wallpaper and the jars of  _ questionable _ substances lining the kitchen counters. The table with all the food was surrounded by colorful chairs. None of which matched.

Sitting in two of the chairs was Getty and his hot, goth, Japanese assistant.

Getty was wearing another Hawaiian shirt, this time green, with baggy grey shorts and neon yellow socks. This time it was his shoes that were black and white striped.  _ How much a that pattern did he have in his fuckin' closet? _ It confused him about as much as Getty confused him.

The more he hung around the guy the more he felt like something was off. When he looked at Getty, REALLY looked at him, it was like the edges of the guy got fuzzy. It made him feel like he needed glasses because he couldn't totally focus on them. And he could feel magic on him. But it had to just be more protection stuff right? 'Cause that thing around his neck he always wore was definitely a talisman. Albeit one he didn't recognize, (which ALSO bugged the hell out of him.)

He floated in through the air to a seat across from Getty.

Without any prompting Beetle began filling his plate with food. Getty looked at him and nodded their head, saying  _ mornin'  _ before going back to eating. Tia was munching on a bagel while tackling more paperwork at the breakfast table.

The assistant sighs, putting the paperwork away and looking at the demon.

"I'll be showing you the business today."

The Beetle raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" he says, smiling, looking a bit doubtful.

"Yup, bosses orders" gesturing to Getty, the aforementioned Boss, who finally stopped eating to address the dead man past morning greetings.

"I did tell you if we ever met again I'd tell ya all about it."

"Oh.. right" Beetlejuice was a little taken aback, surprised that the agent remembered the conversation they'd had at the end of the sandworm job, before Getty had dismissed him. He smiled to himself. It looked like he wouldn't need to snoop  _ or _ threaten bodily harm for the info he wanted. It felt nice.

"But since I'm busy and have enough paperwork on my desk to drown a zebra. My assistant's gonna be your handler today."

At this, the dead man leans over to Tia, very obviously eyeing her up and down. Speaking in a low tone beside her.

"You can handle me as much as you want, toots."

"Scuze you, I answer to Tia not  _ toots _ "

"Hmmm, well Tia's one of my favorite names, reeeeally like it"

Tia, suddenly recognizing an opportunity to mess with her friend, grew an evil smile.

"Ya think so? I've never liked my first name."

"Oh, I can understand that. S' why I go by my much more attractive middle name." he says, winking. "So tell me, what name would you prefer I call out in the middle of the night?"

"What do you think about the name Grace?"

Getty looks up from their food to glare daggers at her.

"Oh ya? I can work with that, always thought the name Grace was  _ super sexy _ ~"

A loud noise cuts him off as Getty suddenly chokes on the juice they'd been drinking, getting some on their hands. The agent wipes themselves off and leaves the room with a face flushed bright red to their ears, probably from choking, Beetle assumes.

He looks back to Tia to pick up where he left off but she's hunched over in silent laughter slapping her knee like she had just witnessed the funniest thing in the earthly realm.

At this point a shade of yellow orange had introduced itself to his hair as he looked at the cracking up goth, wishing suddenly that Getty was still there.

"Oookaaay" he says tentatively as Tia recovers from the rampant giggling. Could he even use the word giggling when describing a goth? Till a day ago he would have said no, but this place just kept rollin' out the hits didn't it?

_ Everyone here's just a few crayons short of a whole box. A few pieces away from a puzzle. And this place  _ **_was_ ** _ a puzzle. _ He thought.

Gettys assistant rises from her chair and walks away, leaving the kitchen and waving for him to follow. He glances to the food still left on the table.

"The maids will handle that" she says looking impatient from his stalling.

"This place has maids?"

This elicits another laugh from the the dark haired woman

"Two actually, and that's not all we have"

With that comment, the two head through the house to the front door. One walking with measured steps, the other floating through the air beside them.

He'd been told he could leave the house whenever without explicit permission, but part of him roiled in nerves. Thinking that the moment he stepped out of the door he'd be on saturn's moon Titan in seconds. That everything had been an elaborate ruse built by yet another NMPTE agent who hated him.

They were in the foyer again, and despite his nerves, when he saw the front door he felt a jump of anticipation. The good kind this time. It had been... well... a  **long** freakin time since he had walked with any sense of freedom outside a haunted house.

They stepped through the door without fanfare or confetti, they were inside and then they weren't. He stood on the sidewalk and the ground didn't turn to sand, the sky stayed blue, and he wasn't on Titan.

Outside... OUTSIDE! He was outside! The door hadn't led to saturn's moon but to the neighborhood he'd seen outside his window!

The demon vaulted into the air, pulling off an impressive backflip, resting midair just above the trees. His hair was an absolutely electric green as he tasted the wind and felt the faint humidity. He could feel the early autumn sun on his hands and face as he defied gravity standing at the top of a tree like some creepy sentinel.

He flew back down to the goth breather still bound by gravity and flouted alongside her as she continued walking down the sidewalk. Following her through the air he took a moment to juice himself a cigarette, lighting it on the ends of his fingers that flamed for a moment with unholy fire.

Had he quit smoking? He couldn't remember. He'd started and stopped so many times over the centuries he had forgotten to keep track. What he did know was a moment of freedom like this should be marked with a good smoke.

"Real talk, I did not think parole would be this loosey goosey on the parameters. I mean, I'm outside!!!" just above her head he juiced a large pop of red confetti with a maniacal laugh.

Tia looks up at him, unamused by the colorful bits of paper now stuck in her hair. She combs them out with her fingers.

"Well parole isn't like that for demons, not really."

Beetlejuice pauses his joy to look down at the human.

"Whaddya mean?"

"The Boss had to strong arm the parole board to get you outside the house, even if it's just the neighborhood. Boss thinks parole under house arrest is just a fancy name for more prison. They argued that parole like that was stupid if you were just gonna be stuck again."

The woman continues walking forward with a slight smile on her face, leaving the demon standing there stunned. His mane of unruly hair now a show of light pink and orange.

He turns to look back at the house.

The outside was a dark teal color, lots of windows, and still very big. But to think the parole he had been asking for would have been more house arrest if it hadn't been for Getty... Doesn't matter how big the house is at that point, he would have been trading one prison for another.

He wasn't sure why agent Fornax had gone that far for him, but he could admit begrudgingly, that Getty Fornax was an alright guy.

He turned to catch up with Tia who had continued walking without him and was a ways away already.

He juiced himself over and stood beside her to look at the building she stood in front of, taking another drag from his cancer stick. (Not that demons could even get cancer.)

They were at the edge of the neighborhood where the homes had turned into small businesses, shops, and studios. The number of people wearing yellow coveralls had increased as well. While standing there, Tia pulled from her pocket two yellow arm bands, putting one on and giving the other to Beetlejuice.

The yellow band was the same neon color as the uniforms and had a small logo on it in a much darker yellow, allowing it to stand out. The image was of a crescent moon circled by a diamond headed snake almost biting its own tail with a dot in the very middle.

He gave the band an incredulous glare before putting it on. Craning his neck he read the sign board for what looked like the main building. It was a large print of the same logo in black. In small letters below it, the sign read **Melinoë Co.** _why did that name sound super familiar?_

He gazed at the building a little longer before his rough voice commented.

"Pretty snazzy, P-re-tty snazzy."

Tia pulled the cigarette from his mouth and put it out under the heel of her shoe before he could protest. He rolled his eyes with a sneer when she pointed to the no smoking sign in the corner of the doors window.

The inside was not what he expected.

It was a plain room with tan walls, lit with electric wall sconces giving the room a large feel and a warm glow. The floor was made of several different types of stone cut into another depiction of their logo. In between the wall sconces large paintings hung, each a nightmarish or twisted scene. Many of them featured a woman swathed in dark robes, face hidden in shadows.

A desk sat in the middle, manned by an average joe schmo lookin' guy also wearing a yellow armband.

The employee looks up, seeing Tia and her strange company. He looked like he was about to ask something when he saw that Beetlejuice also had an armband and instead waved them through.

Tia elbows Beetle in the side.

"Ay! Watch it! I'm ticklish~" he hisses. The woman just shakes her head smiling and points to his new yellow accessory.

"That band gives you administrative access. If you mess around with it you'll make the boss regret trusting you."

His hair shot through with bright lime green as he stared down at the yellow band resting on his striped sleeve.  _ Trust?... Trust me!? That didn't sound right. No one even trusts me with my own existence! Although, lookin' back I haven't really given Getty any reasons  _ **_not_ ** _ to trust me yet, right?... Does, does Getty really trust me? _

"Guess there's a first for everything." he mumbles to himself.

"What was that?" Tia asks looking up at him.

"Huh? Oh, nothin' toots, just keep it going with the tour."

She frowned at the name but did in fact continue the tour.

Beyond the desk were three hallways, the leftmost hall was painted white, the middle was yellow like the armbands and jumpsuits, the last to the right was a darker grey. The grey hall floor was scuffed and stained with god knows what, some of the stains were a purple color that gave him some serious sandworm flashbacks.

The secretary pointed across him to the white hall.

"That's the medical part of the building where we handle things like mild injuries, curses, and make a little bit of medicine using alchemy. They only do super simple recipes though, the Boss is the only one who can really handle that stuff."

She then points to the yellow hall.

"That's for general stuff where most of the employees work, Everything from  _ spiritual consultations _ to  _ customer handling _ . Our work comes from folks who have supernatural requests. Though we mostly wait for people to seek us out with their problems. Most requests are taken care of by teams of employees though, and not the Boss. Our company isn't actually that big, less than maybe 150 people. But we make up for it by doing what no one else can."

As she's talking, some of the workers she mentioned were walking through, glancing at the pair with curious looks before moving on to whatever they were doing.

Waving to get his attention, his goth guide points to the grey hall.

"This is where we process monsters the Boss gets from their hunting jobs. We use em' for lots of things. The Boss mostly uses them to help with other jobs, but we've got four or five  _ eccentric _ not to be named millionaires who buy up pieces for private collections. We don't talk about those transactions though. Can't exactly sell sandworm teeth on an open market without asking for trouble."

She gives Beetlejuice a knowing look.

"Government trouble" she whispers, hiding her mouth with the back of her hand. 

Seeing his kinda blank overwhelmed face she steps away to talk to a passing worker coming from the grey hall.

Standing with the worker Tia turns to check on the Beetle. She sees him standing where she'd left him. But his shoulders were hunched up to his pointed ears and he was wringing his hands. Was his hair a darker green? He was also making the spookiest evil villain laugh she'd ever heard.

The guy next to her coked his head and pointed to the dead man questioningly.

"Is that normal?"

Tia leans over to whisper, neither of them looking away from the green haired demon.

"I'm not totally sure."

"And the Boss has to take care of this guy?"

"Mhm"

Beetlejuice turns to see the two staring at him. In a snap and spark of light he disappeared only to reappear behind the two of them.

He wraps his arms around their shoulders holding their faces close while grinning like a maniac.

"Ya know it was a smart decision on your bosses part gettin' me on board, I got a real eye for business and  **mayhem** , *cough* I mean management. I'm a ghost of many talents, with yours truly helpin' the  _ Boss, _ things around here are gonna be ab-so-lute-ly amazing!"

Tia snaps out of her stunned surprise to correct his claims.

"Wait, You? Help the Boss? That's not likely on any plane of existence."

Both breathers had escaped his arms and stood shaking their heads.

"You're a parolee, you're not part of the company~"

Beetle interrupts before she can finish.

"Hu up up up! Gonna stop you there hot stuff"

He reaches across his body and tugs on the yellow armband still decorating his monochrome suit.

"Your talkin' to an  **administrator** . I feel like I'm very much part of the business." he says with a wicked look on his face as he floats off the ground and over to them.

"What?! That's not what that's for! Boss gave you that so you could be free to go where you wanted without anyone holding you up, not to give you actual power in the business!"

_ Well duh. _ Beetlejuice had figured as much when Tia had handed it to him, but he wasn't gonna let her know that.

"Are you a hundred percent sure about that, toots? Your precious boss said those exact words? _This is just so my favorite demon can move around and has absolutely no sway in the company,"_ he said in a perfect replica of Getty's voice. "that what they said?"

"W-well no~" Tia stutters, caught off guard by Beetlejuice's enthusiasm.

"A-that's what I thought." he finishes with a smug smile. He begins floating to the doors before turning back to look at the assistant, nameless worker and the desk man.

"Quick side note! This WHOLE PLACE" he says in a loud rasp, motioning to the building around him "Is built around Getty's connection to the Netherworld 'cause of his strange n' unusual job. When it comes too strange and unusual, who do you think is higher on the pyramid? Me? Or you?"

His stripped arms cross each other holding his middle as he lets out a full bodied laugh. The lights in the room flicker wildly as his enjoyment flares.

"Oh this is gonna be good! Thanks for the tour sexy thang, but I've got a neighborhood to explore and a business to intimately familiarize myself with!"

From his pocket he throws a smoke bomb that explodes in a white cloud filling the space he'd been occupying.

Beetlejuice then starts coughing and waving his hand through the smoke.

"Ah! Screamin' jesus on a ferris wheel, I can't see shit!" He says waving the rest of the cloud away.

"I'm gonna use the door."

The echo of the door closing behind him and the lingering white haze were all that's left of the demon's presence.

The guy manning the desk turns to look at the two behind him.

"That's the guy our boss is handling?"

Both nod their heads in shocked silence.

They all look towards the door Beetlejuice had left through. All three suddenly feeling very sorry for their boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you get the chance, I love hearing from other BJ fans!


	8. A new job arrives and G-dawg and the B-man plan a Ride Along!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BJ is frustrated, Grace gets a new assignment, tempers rise, plans are made.

Grace was sitting in her office taking a snack break with a plate full of sliced apples and peanut butter, when she heard the front doors slam open and a frustrated growl echo through the house to meet her ears.

It had been three and a half days now since Tia had reported about Beetle’s outburst and plan. He’d spent the days exploring and snooping around the neighborhood.

She hadn’t seen him at all during his escapades, though the good cryptic citizens of halloween town gave reports that painted a pretty clear picture. After roaming anywhere not warded, he wrecked his way through the company building looking for something, and, oh ya, flirted with nearly every female he encountered.

But since he didn’t leave the area, no one really complained, and she hadn’t gotten any harassment notices, so Grace left him be. He was very good at being as horrible as he could without actually getting in trouble. Probably a skill born from centuries of practice.

She was honestly surprised with how quickly he’d gotten it out of his system before giving up on whatever it was he was trying to do.

The clomp of his boots tracked through the house, ending at her office doors. The doors swing open and Beetlejuice enters without saying a word. He passes Grace as he grumbles low and throws himself like a rag-doll onto the office sofa.

Grace leans her head into her hand and speaks through a mouthful of apples.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

The answer she gets is a low groan and an animal like snarling.

“Want some apples? It’s snack time since I’m taking a break.” she offers still munching on a slice of fruit. Beetlejuice looks up from his spot at Getty and their plate of apples and peanut butter.

“What are you, fuckin' five years old?”

“If you want an apple slice you just gotta ask, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” Grace counters.

The Beetle stands to snark back but his comment dies in his throat as he succumbs to the absurdity of the situation and his tiredness. He sighs and drags a chair, squeaking as loudly as he could make it, across the floor to sit at the desk with Getty. Sitting down he lays his head on the smooth wood and begins eating apples as well.

Grace hadn’t seen the dead man so quiet since his almost nervous breakdown in the empty mens bathroom where they’d met. But not being sure what to say to help with his mood, she simply sat with him and continued eating.

Beetlejuice was exhausted. He had looked everywhere and threatened plenty. He even threw around the weight of his new administrative arm band. But he couldn’t find what he needed.

He’d been looking for something dirty to blackmail Getty with during his jaunt around town. This place had everything he wanted. People from the fringes of normal society, no expectations or tight regulations, a company that had sway in the paranormal community on earth  _ and _ the netherworld.

It had taken him a while to remember where he’d heard the name  **Melinoë Company** but during his down time, he had recalled the rumors whispered about it. A human company being whispered about in the netherworld? And what was even better was that rumors about the “breathing NMPTE agent” were never talked about in the same conversation as “Melinoë Co.” rumors. Getty had done a good job building all this without anyone knowing it was him.

And God/Satan did Beetlejuice want a piece of it now more than ever. Hence the search for blackmail material.

He had to find some way to make himself a permanent fixture in Getty’s company. He needed a position at the heart of things he couldn’t be shaken from. The solution should’ve been to blackmail the boss. Even if Getty was a good guy, better than most, there had to be some dirt. Everyone had dirt! It was a fact of life AND death.

But he couldn’t find anything! ZIP! ZILCH! NADDA! Ughh... The only other ideas he had were some form of hostage crisis, direct threats, seduction, or becoming their... _ “friend” _ .

The hostage crisis and threats probably wouldn’t work against someone who was his **parole officer.** _Ya, that wouldn’t end well._ He’d given the seduction route some serious thought, and while he had spent about a decade some time back having that kinda fun, he wasn’t gay. (Though he had picked up some lasting sexual habits from those days, and still didn’t mind blurring the lines.) He just preferred ladies at the end of the day, so that plan was scrapped.

That left getting on Getty’s good side and being their  _ friend. _

He was of course, the Ghost with the Most, a great guy all around! But he had to admit, he knew he could rub people the wrong way. This was gonna take some real finesse.

The name Melinoë kept bugging him though, had he heard it somewhere else? He wasn’t sure.  _ My brain’s probably just mixing up rumors, if it’s important I’ll remember it. _ He dismissed it to refocus on his problem of leverage. Friendship or not, leverage was good.

The golden eyes of the demon roamed the room the two of them sat in. He knew if there was info he could use to bend Getty he would probably find it in this office or somewhere in the house. But he wasn’t dumb enough to snoop while Getty was still in residence. And with the size of his workload,  _ he hadn't left at all. _

And so he sat there with the breather who was at the center of it all. The room's silence was punctuated only by the crunching of apples, the scooping of peanut butter, and the occasional long sigh.

Both of the room's occupants were exhausted, but for very different reasons.

Grace was the one to break the silence by pulling a drawer open and removing a plain folder, resting it on the desk.

“I’ll be working again soon. This is my latest assignment.” She draws in a deep breath, releasing it as a sigh.

“It’s on the east coast so we’ll be traveling for it.”

Part of what they said caught the demon's attention and he looked at them from his slumped position, quirking an eyebrow. A little more animated.

“Beg pardon, WE?” he says, picking up and resting his head in one hand.

“I heard about what you said, well,  _ monologued _ to Tia. Do you actually wanna be a part of things around here?”

To this he fully perked up, sitting back in his chair beside the desk.

“So you’ve finally recognized the raw talent sitting in front of you! My services ain’t cheap ya know. And I ain’t gonna be tossed in another goddamn sandworm rodeo, that’s a show I won’t do twice, I won’t do it!” He points a finger accusingly at Getty.

Getty smiles at his reaction, Placing both arms atop the desk making a tent with their fingers.

“So you  _ are _ interested?”

“Consider the Ghost with the Most as an official part a’ the team!” He stands and with an arm over his chest he bends at the waist, sweeping his other arm out in an elaborate bow.

With a flash he’s standing next to Getty and grabbing the folder to flip through it.  _ Ya, that’s annoying.  _ Getty frowned.

“So what’s the rundown G-dawg? Who’s comin’ along? I should acquaint myself with the team. Ya know, get real close, really get to know each other, become good pals.” He says with a crooked grin crossing his features.

Getty stands, snatching the folder from his black, claw like nails. The beginnings of irritation show on the agents face.

“This has sensitive info! And… There is no team. If you decide to tag along it’ll just be us.”

Beetlejuice scoffs with a toss of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“Spffft don’t make me laugh, I know Empty’s work in groups, and you’ve got a whole town of people that’r just waitin’ to bend over for ya!”

It was flippant and careless, but the comment made Grace angry. And the temper made itself known.

“First! DON’T call me an  _ empty.  _ Second! It’s against NMPTE rules to endanger living people in any direct way. And if you hadn’t noticed, ALL my workers are still breathing!” Grace shouts, throwing the folder down onto the desk with a slap.

“Didn’t you stop to wonder  _ why _ I was taking on a sandworm solo when we first met? Even though I had a team of trained workers not even a block away!?”

Beetlejuice had moved away from the angry human, now across from them with the heavy furniture between them. Grace braces both hands on the desk, eyes narrowed at The demon.

“If anyone’s hurt  _ or worse _ while helping me on an assignment I’ll be handed some  **_not very nice punishments_ ** . What was the term you used?  _ Permanent record level punishments?” _

Grace had stalked around the table, shoulders straight as she spoke to the poltergeist in clipped, angry words. Her tirade was stopped short though when the man stepped up to her, his hands raised in a placating manner.

He needed to say something to calm them down.

“W-well, what about the other agents?”

This, he realized quickly, was  _ not  _ the right thing to say.

“I’m the only one topside, the only breathing agent. I’M ALONE!” Grace shouts again.

The sudden emotional outburst gave Beetlejuice serious pause. Even as Getty's anger flared, Beetle could tell the guy was visibly forcing himself to try and calm down. The breather was grumbling and pinching the bridge of their nose until his fingers and nose bridge were white from the pressure.

On an impulse, the dead man reached out and gave their shoulder a squeeze, imitating what they had done for him the evening before.

He then panicked and withdrew his hand, certain he’d just made it worse. But the human just looked up at him, their shoulders suddenly falling and their brow un-creasing very slightly.

Grace held her forehead in one hand in a frustrated manner, releasing a long sigh. She moved to the nearby door of the office and leaned on the frame. The anger now gone, forced from her head without letting it burn out spectacularly like it usually did. She deflates a little with another sigh.

“You don’t have to come. If you're not on board I’ll summon one of my usuals to fill the spot. For a job like this I’ll probably call Abacus.”

Beetlejuice cocked his head confused for a moment.  _ Wait, wait, wait....Wait a second _ ~

“Abacus? You mean FUCKIN ZOZO?! ZOZO’s a DUMBASS!”

“Ya, well I need someone good at scaring humans for this one, and ZOZO knows his way around a haunted house.”

The demon held up his pale hands to halt the offensive stream of words from leaving the humans mouth.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA!!! Scaring people!? I  _ live _ my undead  _ life _ to scare people! People screamin' for their lives is  _ such _ a turn on.” The memory of past screams moving through his head, riling him up as he looked past Getty into the middle distance.

Hot under the collar from the vivid trip down memory lane he couldn’t help reaching up to thumb over his nipples under his shirt and growl just thinking about it.

“When they start running, trippin over themselves to get away, eyes wide, vocal cords ringin’, oooh ya.” His eyes almost lidded, paying no attention to his surroundings.

At this point Grace couldn’t look directly at him, under threat of spontaneous combustion with how hot her face flushed. She held a hand to her brow to hide her flustered expression and shield her eyes.

Beetlejuice stops then, smoothing down the front of his shirt and throwing an arm over her shoulders.

“But!” he exclaims, “That's besides the point. We’re  _ best friends  _ now! From here on out you won’t need  _ ZOZO _ or anyone else, ‘cause you’ll have ME!”

He moves closer with an expectant look on his face. After a moment's staring contest Grace breaks first and concedes.

“Ya alright,  _ Pack your shit, _ we’re leaving sometime tomorrow. Because apparently a day or two's notice is beyond the capabilities of the  _ wildly _ powerful Netherworld.”

“YeeeeAAAAHHHH!” He jumps in the air as all the room's lights flicker, affected by his otherworldly excitement. His hair flashing a saturated emerald green. Curving through the air he shoots past Grace on his way out of the room.

Grace falls slowly back against the wall. She didn’t like being flustered for no good reason, but that seemed to happen a lot around the demon.  _ I guess I’m still not the master of social interactions I thought I was. _

Slapping herself in the face, Grace stands, straightening her back. She had a lot to do in terms of prep for the short notice trip. She grabbed her phone and headed to her room to start packing. There were supplies to pack and calls to make to arrange transport. Long distance teleportation wasn’t on the table for Beetlejuice while he was on parole. Not without explicit permission. And Grace wasn’t sure she trusted him to not take them to Vegas or Dubai or something, given the chance.

Halfway down the hall away from the office towards his room the dead man spots Tia, peeking around the corner looking nervous. So with a silent flash and a bit of juice, he stood behind her.

“What’s poppin' gorgeous?”

She lets out a startled  _ EEP!  _ Before spinning around, giving him a look of  _ concern _ .

“Are you alright! Did they throw anything? Did anything break? Is the office a mess?!” She says, frantically waving her hands and looking back around the corner. When she turned back, Beetlejuice’s face was much closer, right next to her’s.

“AH!” she jumps back holding her hand up.

“Hey! Calm your tits! What in the name of baphomet are you talkin' about?”

“I came because I heard the boss yelling, and if it had to do with you I was afraid it was  _ really _ bad”

“Okay,  _ rude. _ ”

“How angry were they when you left?”

“Uhh, Not at all?  _ What are you high on?” _

“So they weren’t angry after all?” She asks ignoring the drug comment.

“They were angry for a sec, but he’s good now~”

The click of a door handle has them both looking around the corner to see Getty calmly walking away from them in the direction of their room.

“See? Cool as a cucumber.” he says nodding to the retreating figure.

Tia looked on in partial disbelief.

“Wow… That never happens.” she half mumbles. She looks at Beetlejuice. “It takes a lot to get the Boss angry, and getting them to calm down once they are is practically a vertical climb. We usually have to wait for it to burn out.” The women eyed Beetlejuice as if he’d accomplished a minor miracle.

The demon was a little surprised at the new info about Getty.

“Huh, ya think ya know people.” he says roughly.

“You can say that again,” Tia says after him.

His dark eyes look to her with an expression that says very loudly  _ Are you stupid? _

“Why would  _ you _ say that? You two are practically glued at the hip! You're his assistant and shit, and you're like  _ friends _ right? You know him better than anyone!”

It was Tia’s turn to look at him like like he was stupid.

“We  _ are  _ friends. But saying I know everything about the Boss is like saying someone like  _ you  _ knows everything about after school soccer practice carpooling.” She sighs, shifting her weight to one foot, resting her hip at an angle.

“You can only get so close to the Boss before you hit a wall.” The two of them lock eyes and Tia continues in a serious tone. “The Boss carries around a lot of pain. This whole place depends on them though, so they never waver. At least not in front of us.”

She broke the intense eye contact and rolled her neck with a sigh, the serious atmosphere gone. Tia popped her neck with a crack and looked sidelong at the demon. Smirking lightly.

“Did the boss tell you about their latest job assignment? They got it this morning.”

The Beetle folds his arms in a proud stance and smiles wide like a kid, showing off his  _ very  _ pointy teeth.

“HECK YA they did! We’re gonna be tag teaming this bitch!”

Tia cringes a little at how he says it, but smiles with him when he mentions he’ll be going along.

“That’s really good news! This’ll be the Bosses first time having a real partner! It’s your job to look out for them now, so do a good job.” She says with a grin. Tia looks down at her wrist to check her watch, seeing the time she says goodbye and picks up a box he hadn't noticed at her feat. she walks away, toting the box of something heavy and  _ moving _ to wherever it needed to be before she had stopped to check on them. She leaves Beetlejuice in the hall to continue to his room, to pack and think to himself.

The blinged out little goth had brought up a good point. He hadn’t really considered what it meant to work a job with Getty. The sandworm job had forced them to work together for mutual benefit and survival more than anything. He supposed this was the kind of situation where they’d have to have each other's backs and stuff.  _ Partner _ stuff. A pretty new concept for the ghoul.

He continues to his room, silently gagging at the bland interior and vowing to change it as soon as possible. Now in his room Beetlejuice sits on the edge of his bed, thinking about what Tia had said about Getty and the pain he carried. She made it sound pretty serious. But he wasn’t totally sold on the idea that someone like Getty, who had so much, could be dealing with something like that.

The Beetle couldn’t work out how someone who was _sad_ could _act_ _happy._ His parole officer wasn’t a ray of sunshine, but he cracked jokes, smiled and _enjoyed stuff!_ What about that gave signs he was sad? He sounded like he didn’t like his job, or being jerked around by higher ups, but that seemed to be the extent of it from where Beetlejuice sat. And what salary slave _doesn’t_ grumble about their job?

_ The outburst in the office was weird, but that was probably me stepping on some human, social, formality, bullshit or whatever. Humans had so much unspoken etiquette these days it was impossible not to step on toes. _

At  _ most _ Getty reminded him of civil servants who were promised promotions and ended up with  _ glamorous  _ positions like prison warden, general manager or something else lame. Just a guy who doesn’t like his job.

Beetlejuice guessed Getty and him really weren’t anything alike at the end of the day. And for some reason that disappointed him. He shook his head, as if to physically dislodge the intrusive feeling.  _ What was I expecting from a breathing agent? _

That’s when a nagging thought in the back of his head started to grow. A question that had been there since meeting agent Fornax, but he hadn’t been able to pinpoint. In the quiet moment in between his train wreck thinking, it made itself known.

_...How did Getty get this job?... _

_ He’s a breather, and besides the empire of batshit insanity he's built around himself, he was a normal guy!  _ If he remembered correctly, NMPTE pulled new recruits from the same suicide pool that other departments did. Since cops were technically civil servants. Once someone ganks themselves they’re headed to the Netherworld for at least a couple lifetimes worth of being a civil servant.

Of course, working for  **the powers that be** (the pretentious name for upper management) could mean anything from being a janitor to being a caseworker for the newly deceased. One of the possibilities was becoming an NMPTE agent.

Though he had heard they’re a little more picky about who they bring on, it was still a department like all the others, populated by suicide victims.

He could tell he was missing pieces of this puzzle. There was something else to the goofy rumors about a breathing agent. But he couldn’t tell what! He could only hope to worm out some answers from Getty during their little trip.

The two of them alone on a job would afford Beetlejuice lots of quality one on one time with his  _ new BFF _ .

He was looking forward to his ride along.


	9. Que the travel montage!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hints about what's behind the mysterious bathroom door, dumb jokes, and Grace has a weird rich friend who thinks she needs to get laid?~

Grace opened her eyes the next day to the silence of her bedroom. Cold, blue tinted early autumn light pushed past her thick curtains through breaks in the fabric to fill her room.

Her hands rise to meet her face attempting to block the light. Despite her hands best effort, thin splinters of the offending light rouse her into a sitting position. Sleep filled brown eyes move to find the bedside clock.

The little glowing numbers tell her the time is 1:30 in the afternoon.

The nightmares had really pulled her under this time. The groggy woman puts her head in her hands and tries to replay the horrible images and make sense of what her brain was trying to tell her. She always prided herself for keeping a very organized mind, making the stress induced nightmares that turned her brain into a tossed salad even more frustrating. She sat there, very still and taking deep breaths. But a moment passes and Grace growls in frustration and throws herself back into the chaos of pillows.

It was the same old same old. Vague dreams of anxiety and horror plague her nights only for her to wake up with no memory of them.  _ They weren't even mysterious creepy prophetic dreams, that would at least be cool. _ Even with a life full of the strange and occult her nightmares were just normal and  _ horrible.  _ And attacked her almost nightly for no discernible reason!

Well... That's not  _ entirely _ true. There was a reason. But Grace would never address it, hadn't for years. Grace's depression riddled her body, suppressed just beneath her shining veneer. But she would never acknowledge it as the cause of her nightmares. And why not? Keyword here being  _ suppressed. _

Taking another glance at the bright digital face of her clock she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't gonna get any more sleep for the day.  _ Not that it was very good sleep. _ Jostling her protesting body out of bed she goes to her closet for her clothes of the day. The phone calls she had made yesterday had sorted out transportation for that evening, giving her time to finish packing and dither for a while.

With clothes in hand she moves to her bathroom. Standing before the door she puts her dominant right hand on the intricate faintly glowing ward, her left hand on the handle about waist height.

A moment after her hands made contact the strange symbols dimmed and a soft click could be felt under her left hand. Grace pushes open the door and enters the modest bathroom.

It was plain in every aspect. A sink, a toilet, a shower. Maybe the tub was a standout, but only because it was pretty big. If anyone told Beetlejuice just how simple and underwhelming the bathroom was on the other side of the heavily guarded door he would scoff, insist there was more to it, call whoever it was a filthy liar, and flip them off... And he would be right.

Standing at the sink, Grace brushes her teeth and washes her face, splashing water across her skin before looking up at her reflection. Through the mirror her eyes find a small white door on the wall behind her. The door was unremarkable and the same color as the wall around it. Shorter and slimmer than the average door. It looked to all the world like a small linen closet for the towels and soaps of the bathroom.

It was very much NOT a linen closet.

It was the reason for the absolute overkill on protection charms that guarded the room and kept others out. A point of embarrassment for the young woman. Hell must have frozen over, because this marked the second instance where Beetlejuice was right. Everyone had dirt on them, even Grace, it's a fact of life  _ and _ death.

Arching her back and raising her hands overhead to stretch the sleepiness from her muscles, the pajama clad woman turns to lean the small of her back on the bathroom counter. Looking right at the small door. With arms crossed Grace considers her options.

"I haven't been in there for some  _ me  _ time since our  _ polter-guest  _ started staying here." She scratches her neck in thought.

"I don't know how long I'll be on this next job... It would be nice to de-stress and loosen up my energy before a long ass trip." Still not sure if she would even have enough time, Grace pauses in her neck scratching and tilts her head.

"Well" she reasons, "nobody knows I'm awake yet."

Not needing anymore self convincing she crosses the bathroom in three strides and enters the small door, closing it behind her.

\---

Tia, Daniel, and a few other managers of the company sat around a table in the office common room, going over jobs and projects that would be handled while the Boss was gone for work. Tia was the de facto lady in charge when agent Fornax was pulled away for assignments, but the input of other key members was always included.

The meeting was drawing to a close, They began shuffling papers and sorting out last minute plans. All was going well until a sudden rattle shook the table they sat at. It jerked around on its wooden legs when the upper torso of a familiar ghost rose up through the table and the paper work covering it.

Beetlejuice from the chest up had appeared in the middle of the table, the rest of him presumably out of sight as the furniture visually bisected him. He looked at Tia with a casually annoyed expression.

"Yo, sexy assistant. Where the HELL is Getty?! I haven't seen him all day and we've got somewhere to be! I still don't know where exactly that  _ is _ ... BUT IT AIN'T HERE! _That's for damn sure_." His sudden outburst finishing on a quieter more grumbled note.

"I've been waiting for him for-like- _ ever!  _ It's already way past noon! " he growled out.

Tia addresses his angry question while most of the other room occupants do their best to seem unfazed and ignore the frightening ghoul.

"The boss is probably still asleep, they get pretty bad nightmares, especially before going on away jobs."

Beetlejuice doesn't look impressed with the excuse and tilts his head, keeping eye contact with the dark eyed woman.

"Don't breathers these days have pills and stuff for hittin' the snooze button and not being bothered by nightmares? I know I've seen newly deads that've OD'ed on that kinda shit."

A voice cuts in with a thick Minnesotan accent that bordered on Canadian.

"Ya, I can't tell ya how m'ny a' those gosh darn pills the Boss has gone through tryna get rid a the nasty things."

Beetlejuice, eyes narrowed twists his head, popping and snapping, past normal limits around to look at who was speaking. A classic display of scary movie body horror.

It was the same asshat that had been there when he had first come to the house. The one who had laughed up a storm with Getty's hot assistant lady. The Beetle tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at the other man. He had shaggy hair that was almost blonde and an innocent smile that made the demon wanna puke. It reminded him of a certain straight-laced brother who he didn't like thinking about. The dude's clothes really weren't helping him out either. Plain office blue button up shirts paired with sweater vests and simple pants. Beetlejuice's look of disgust and annoyance spoke volumes, volumes that would have cowed any other participant at the table. But to his increased annoyance, it didn't affect the man the glare was directed at.

"I don't remember askin'  _ you _ . Who the fuck are you and why should I care?"

"This is Daniel~" Tia volunteers with a nervous smile and wave. She had gotten used to the cooler temperament the demon showed when the boss was around. She had almost forgotten the person she was dealing with wasn't human. But the unhappy threatening aura and grotesque body horror reminded her quickly. Being outright scared of him was dumb, she knew Grace wouldn't let anything happen, but she decided she'd act a little more careful from now on. In fact, with Tia more nervous than normal and the rest of the table not daring to move, it was only Daniel who seemed unaffected.

The sitting human leaned forward, bending slightly in a very traditional greeting that didn't seem to fit him at all.

"Howdy! How'ya doin? I'm Daniel Walker, But you can call me Dan, or Danny, whichever's easier for ya pal!" He reaches for a handshake with another puke inducing smile.

Beetlejuice extends a single index finger out and pushes  _ Danny's  _ hand slowly and forcefully down to the table and away from him.

"... Right... Tell me toots," he says looking back at Tia "What makes it look like I give a damn about that  _ or  _ who this guy is?" A streak of red was working its way from the side of his temple out to the tips of his hair.

"Oh!" Daniel speaks up, still chipper in the face of the demon's worsening attitude, "I work here with everyone else, for the Boss ya know!"

The striped ghost looks again to the still smiling human and feigns an over exaggerated smile of interest.

"Reeeally? _That's_ why you're here in Getty's building with the other employees? _I_ _would have never guessed._ Who knew my pal Getty employed a _fuckin' savant_." He barks out the last bit, everything dripping in sarcasm.

Now he was more pissed off than he wanted to be if his intention was to leave without mangling any of Getty's little workers. Beetlejuice forces himself to cool off. Taking a deep breath he didn't need, he straightens his lapels and licks both hands to smooth his hair into shape, despite it always being affixed how he liked it through demonic means. As his hands ran across his hair they seemed to take the hint of red away along with them.

"Well, SURPRISE SURPRISE! You losers are no help and I have to do everything myself!" he shouts in his low gravelly voice as he pulls the rest of himself from below the table, climbing to his full height atop the work surface. He stared around the table at the breathers sitting there with a thinly veiled sneer.

"Welp! I've been waitin' around all day so I'm off to go drag Getty's lazy ass outta bed."

With a snap of his fingers, and a light pop noise, he was gone. Leaving the planning crew in silence. Silence that was broken by Daniel.

"Well jeez, that was a bit much, ay?" Heads around the table nod in quiet agreement. More silence and muffled shuffling in seats before Daniel speaks again.

"I think him and the Boss would make a good match!"

Every head in the room snaps up to see Daniel smiling like an adolescent teen girl who just realized her two best friends would make a cute couple. The only one to crack a smile was Tia, who sat across from him, laughing lightly through her nose.

Most of them sigh, one coughs nervously and looks everywhere but at Daniel. No one could say anything to that, because well, stranger beings had been suggested as possible companions for their apparently romantically averse leader. And they all knew the decision wasn't ultimately up to them, but...They all hoped that whoever the Boss settled down with, it wouldn't be someone like a cult leader. They'd all been there and done that. And anything was better than that, even the literal demon disrupting her home.

The topic of what kind of guy would end up with the boss was a favorite of Melinoë company workers. Thoughts and opinions varied, but one thing that every member of the  _ Fornax _ extended family agreed on was that as long as the Boss was in charge they would all be okay. They knew it was an absurd amount of trust to put in one person, and no one knew whether it was residual thinking from their days as cult followers or if it was because Grace genuinely cared and worked hard for them. Who could say? It was probably a bit of both.

\---

Beetlejuice stood outside of Getty's door contemplating how to enter. It took a moment but he settled on knocking and then immediately entering without waiting for a response. He'd been in there before during the house tour a couple days ago so he didn't feel bad about barging in. (not that he would have felt bad anyway.)

What he finds is an empty bed and the sounds of a shower coming from behind the very locked, black bathroom door. Knowing he can't pass beyond the wards he turns his attention to the rest of the room. It was a strange collection of dark occult elements and pieces straight out of an overly saturated kids cartoon. It seemed that the agent's contradictory tastes continued beyond his fashion sense. A large set of dresser drawers was near him beside the bathroom door and a pair of bedside tables flanked either side of the large bed. He noticed with a laugh, that the bed had a few stuffed animals on it. The other side of the room was showcasing a small bookshelf and several framed photos, all of strange locations or people. There was another small door in the room that probably led to the closet. To his eternal disappointment, the room was clean. Nothing important looking was left out, no doors left askew, no convenient boxes of dirty or top secret material left out for him, not even any dirty laundry, literal or metaphorical.

With Getty always in the house because of the apparent influx of work that comes with the coming halloween season, He'd never gotten the chance to snoop around this room in particular. Beetlejuice scratches his stubble, wondering if he has time now to snoop a bit with his  _ pal _ in the shower.

But before any of his claws could go through even the first drawer, he hears the squeak of pipes from the shower being turned off. Moments later the door opens revealing Getty in a cloud of steam, steam that keeps Beetlejuice from getting a good look inside beyond recognizing a few traditional bathroom features.

Closing the door and turning to the bedroom Getty nearly jumps out of their skin when they see the demon waiting beside the door. Smiling at the small jump he elicited the Beetle looks them over. They must have gotten dressed in the bathroom, because they looked ready for the day.

His breather buddy's hair was slicked back from the water, held back in a classic Fornax ponytail he had now come to expect from the agent. He was wearing acid washed denim jeans, black sneakers, and a predominantly light blue Hawaiian shirt that wasn't  _ totally _ offensive to the eyes. The large palm sized medallion hung around their neck as always and his wrist had on it a thick, black and white striped bracelet band.

"Dammit Beej! You nearly scared me outta my socks!" Getty intones, glaring at the demon who had, without real intention, scared them. The pale man on the receiving end of the glare just cackles.

"Hehehe ya, sure hermano. Better watch it though, keep flatterin' me like that and I'll start thinkin' you actually like me."

Beetlejuice pauses suddenly, looking around the room as if trying to find the source of something before his eyes land on Getty again. He takes a few steps closer to them.

He swings an arm up and over the breathers shoulders when he picks up on something that makes him smile all the way to his inhuman amber eyes. He could smell something familiar beneath the shampoo and other shower smells. Demons having supernatural senses was a blessing and a curse. But in this instance, Beetlejuice was very grateful for his acute sense of smell. Of course, even without his super senses he would have been able to pick up on  _ this _ smell. It was one he knew very well.

"Oh-hoho, they told me you were up here having nightmares, but it seems like you were in the middle of something a lot more fuuuuuuun~" He said in a lower, dragging voice. The demon leans in to take a deep breath from the air around Getty.

"Smells like you just finished  _ getting off _ , that what you were doing in there?" His smirk was twisted as he prodded at them. This was a golden opportunity. There was no one easier to get information out of then a flustered human. And getting caught masterbating was definitely in the top ten reasons why humans got flustered. Of course he would have to keep his finger on the pulse of the situation, in every sense of the word. With his arm around Getty's shoulders, all he had to do was shift his position a bit and he could feel where his lifeblood jumped around just beneath his skin.

At Beetlejuice's lewd guess as to what He'd been up too, Getty's pulse quickened and an embarrassed flush creeped across the agents face.

"I'll take that as a yes~" The dead man said, on the edge of condescending.

Grace stood there dealing with a borderline panic attack as the dead man leaned on her, a hand at her neck in a not so subtle way of reading her pulse. She could guess where this was going. Her secret room was protected for several very good reasons, and if, in her nervous state, she let anything slip... well... suffice to say Beetlejuice was the last person she wanted to know about its contents. But that didn't make her racing heart and embarrassment any easier to handle.

Sparring a glance at him, he had a shit eating grin that just got wider as her pulse got quicker. And the look in his eyes said he was ready to take it even further.

"Havein' some private fun in the shower huh? Nothin' to be  _ embarrassed _ about, you can tell your ol' pal BJ anything! We should make an effort to get closer ya know. I've got it! I could slide ya some pointers. Ya know, I've been forced under house arrest for decades at a time and lemme tell ya, I've perfected the method of, how'dya say it? Jerking o~ wait!  _ Indulging in the self _ . Yup, gotta keep things classy."

Being overly casual about an embarrassing topic was Beetlejuice's favorite way of rattling someone. The dead man had Getty pegged as a pretty innocent fellow.  _ He blushes up a storm at every innuendo I throw at him, how could he not be? _ So he kept needling the human, looking for the perfect reaction.

Of course Grace didn't hear anything after the masturbation comment, distracted by her own thinking.  _ Masturbating in the shower? He's not far off, but is that ALL he thinks I was doing? Oh, well duh, I'm a normal guy in his eyes. I keep forgetting that! God, what did I think he was gonna say? Hehehe, look at me getting nervous over nothing. I've gotta rein in my paranoia.  _ She released a sigh, the tension in her body relaxing with a light chuckle at her own nervousness.

Beetlejuice squints his eyes at the breather, his hand dancing on his pals' pulse.  _ That's not right,  _ he thought,  _ why's his pulse going down!? His heart was jazzing just a second ago when I called him out on his vanilla debauchery, I was getting somewhere! And then all of a sudden he cools down!? Hmm...Did I say something wrong? Did I GUESS wrong? NO, no way, not possible, I KNOW that smell, I~ _

Before his thoughts could go further the agent still held in place by his arm slips out from under it. Now smiling and rolling their eyes.

"Well gee BJ, That's a generous offer but I think I have my personal pleasure pretty well  _ in hand." _ A beat of silence passes as Grace tries to hold it in, but bursts out laughing at her own terrible pun.

Beetlejuice grins at the bad joke and shrugs, laying down his own horrible sex joke.

"Hey, here I am just tryin' to help and your  _ blowing me off?" _

Grace turns to stare at him with a mock, over the top scandalized face before breaking into more laughter at the equally horrible pun.

"Well can you blame me? Masterbation is a  _ touchy subject." _

"You can't be so  _ sensitive _ about this stuff Getty,  _ get a HOLD of yourself." _

They both end up wheezing and laughing as they continue throwing increasingly horrendous masturbation and sex puns at each other. Laughing more as the jokes get worse. Neither was sure how long the battle of filthy puns went on, only stopping when Tia came looking for Grace.

The assistant opens the door to find them on the floor still laughing themselves silly and looking out of breath, Grace trying to hold herself up while making inappropriate hand gestures and Beetlejuice holding a can of bug spray he'd juiced up thats label read  _ JERK OFF! _ in bold yellow letters. Both of them rolling on the floor like children.

Her presence was ignored at first by the two cracking up. She steps closer and clears her throat loudly. The two laughing idiots pause to look at her as she stands straighter in her black spike covered dress that matched the intimidating piercings she's chosen that day. And the whole  _ fearsome assistant _ look would have been perfect if her face hadn't turned pink at the jokes she must have overheard while trying to get their attention.

"Boss, the car that was sent is waiting at the curb~"

Grace's eyebrows shoot up as she pulls out her phone to check the time.

"Shit! I forgot to check the time when I got out of the shower!  _ Someone _ was distracting me. I didn't realize I was in there for so long."

She scrambles to a standing position, getting her sneaker clad feet underneath her. Stepping around Beetlejuice who was still lounging on the floor Grace grabs a bright orange duffle bag almost the size of her whole person. She spins on her heel and reaches down to tug at the demon's arm, helping him up.

"Upsy daisy ya crazy bastard, we've got a plane to catch."

Beetlejuice stood with their assistance, still trying to get the last of the laughs out of his system. He waved his hand at the floor and beside him one of his black travel cases shimmered into existence like a screwed up mirage. He tilts his head at his parole officer like the words had only just registered.

"Did you say PLANE!?" he shouts, smiling.

"Yeeup"

...

"Did you say upsy daisy?"

...

"Maybe"

They move through the house stopping at the front door, Grace looks at the pale, perpetually disheveled man beside her.

"I thought you didn't like using stupid words"

"I don't! I have a very cultured vocabulary  _ thank you very much _ ."

"But you just used the words upsy daisy to mock the fact that I said it!"

" _ And?" _

"You'll say that but you still won't use my last name Fornax?"

"Your last name is dumb."

" _ And UPSY DAISY ISN'T?"  _ Grace said incredulously. Not angry but baffled by what kind of thinking led him to such a decision.

"I stand by what I said!" He says crossing his arms and turning his head in a snooty way.

"Really~" Grace deadpans "that's gonna be the hill you die on?"

"Heh! I'm already dead pal."

Grace punches him in the arm with her own stupid grin.

"Let's just get a move on. The transportation this time around is handled by one of our more  _ affluent _ clients and a friend of mine, so try not to wreck anything, Ya?"

Tia opens the door to reveal the front yard of the property and the Black stretch hummer that was parked at its edge.

Grace groans in exhaustion when she sees it. Her handful of wealthy clients did stuff like this to show off and get on her good side. Something about having the owner of the notorious Melinoë company on their list of friends being a status symbol or something to prove that they're interesting to other rich people. As opposed to say, actually having a personality.

As if anything like this would actually impress her. Beetlejuice on the other hand at least looked excited. And she was thankful for the longer car putting her and her spastic riding companion far from whoever was driving. The ghost beside her drops his luggage, which disappears before even touching the ground. To where, is anyone's guess, though the hollow thunk from the back of the car makes the hummers trunk the most likely place. He sprints to the car, diving head first through the window into the back seat all while cackling.

Grace starts crossing the lawn to the curb when she hears a shouted  _ HELL YA! _ From the back seat where the Beetle had disappeared to. The dead man leans out the window holding a bottle of something over his head.

"YO! G-man! They stocked the back a' this thing with BOOZE!

She looked closer and realized the bottle he had by the neck was whiskey. And A really nice one at that. She sneered to herself and rolled her eyes.

"Of course, why not? What rich kiss ass wouldn't load a car with booze."

And really, if she didn't like these kinds of clients as much as she said why ask for favors like transportation? Well, she didn't like  _ most _ of them. One of the A-list clients had a wife named Monica who Grace genuinely liked and considered at least a casual friend. So it was definitely her husband's influence that had brought about a hummer full of booze. She and her husband were the only ones she ever asked for favors from. Though the last conversation she'd had with Monica had ended with her rich friend deciding Grace needed to get laid and the very next private plane the agent had ridden on was populated with high end male  _ escorts _ wearing flight attendant uniforms... Okay so maybe the hummer full of booze HAD been Monica's idea. It was hard to tell, both her and her husband fell under the wakadoo rich person category. The nice couple  _ weren't _ assholes though, so she wished they would stop spending their money like they  _ were _ .

The colorfully dressed woman walks over and saddles into the hummer, glad to see an opaque divider between them and the driver. Getting ready for a long trip she blindly grabs one of the many bottles from the cabinet in front of her and takes several long sips of whatever strong drink it was.

The drive wasn't nearly as eventful as she had first anticipated. Beetlejuice spent most of his time hanging out the window like a dog with his long forked tongue hanging in the wind. Grace raised an eyebrow noticing that it was striped.  _ Which came first?  _ She wondered. _ The tongue, or the suit?  _ The breathing agent spent her time listening to music and having a good time watching the demon take in the scenery all the way to the airport just outside of town.

The spectral parolee and his human probation officer now stood in front of a small private plane. Grace prayed to whatever god or infernal existence that the interior was normal and had no male prostitutes.

Grace shakes her head to dislodge the uncomfortable memory that gave her physical chills. Beetlejuice puts a cold hand on her arm to still her.

"G-dawg, do you not like flying? Get yourself together my man. I don't wanna be seen with a loser!" He says while juicing up a pair of dark sunglasses and pushing them up the bridge of his nose. The Beetle flouts up the loading ramp, holding his case by a slack arm that dragged the luggage along. Agent Fornax follows closely behind into the plane. Happy to see the interior is simple aside from the plush arm chairs.

The striped ghoul sat in one of them, leaned back with his black boots resting on a small table. Already looking very at home. In his hand was a card that looked like it was from Monica and her husband, left on the plane for her to read. She reaches to grab the note but he holds it out of her reach as he finishes reading it. When done, he throws it over his shoulder and it catches fire, disintegrating before touching the floor of the aircraft.

Grace throws Beetlejuice a heated glare and smacks his shoulder. Throwing her large duffle at the floor she slides into the seat across from him.

"What'd the note say?"

Beetle lifts his hand in puppet fashion, having it mime his words.

"Dear G, blah blah blah, come over sometime we miss you, blah blah blah, got a new dog, blah blah, and something about only having pilots on this flight and no attendants  _ "by your request" _ " the last part being emphasized by heavy air quotes.

"I mean CHRIST! You got something against sexy flight attendants?! Talk about crushin' a guys dreams."

Grace feels her face flush a moment.

"Something like that~" she half murmurs.

Beetlejuice just stares at his flying companion like he's never seen a bigger idiot and throws his hands up in mock surrender. Crossing them tight over his chest he mumbles something about being deprived of his right to tight uniforms and tiny pencil skirts.

The person across from him raises an eyebrow at his mildly irritating antics.  "Do whatever you want, just don't mess with the pilot or plane."

Hearing that he rolls his eyes and a gravel filled sigh slips from his throat.  "First time on a plane in ages and I can't even practice my  _ Gremlin on the wing _ bit." Perking up he smiles at Getty.  "You should see me when I do my gremlin thing, always makes for a good scare! The key is only scarring one or two passengers so the rest think they're CRAZY!"

"Huh, so you mean you're not  _ always _ doing your gremlin thing?"

Beetlejuice just glares at them.

"Hardy har har mister sick burn city, but I DO know how to mix things up." He lifts his hand to snap his fingers before Getty jolts forwards to grab the hand, stopping him.

"I'll take your word for it."

And with a harsh stare lets go of his hand and leans back into their chair, fully reclining it. They pop their ear buds in and close their eyes. After a minute or two of waiting for Getty to do or say something else Beetlejuice realizes he's actually fallen asleep. He gets closer, waving a hand in their face.

"Yup, totally zonked out,"

Being this close he stares at Getty, really analyzing the sleeping NMPTE agent. People didn't really fall asleep when they knew he was around, so it was a moment he couldn't pass up.

The more he focuses on his face, the harder it gets to focus at all. Once again noticing the faint blurry air around his image. It was like the air twisting over hot pavement in the summer. Almost faint enough that his demon eyes didn't pick up on it. But even this close, he couldn't figure out what the magic was actually doing. His brow set in a heavy line across his face revealing his frustration.

Grumbling to himself to himself quietly about still having missing puzzle pieces, he gives up on staring at Getty. Flopping back into his chair, Beetlejuice stares now at the inside of the plane and decides to follow Getty's lead and fall into unconsciousness.

\---

Grace is woken hours later by the slow descent of the plane. She pulls her chair back into its upright position, unfolding her limbs from each other and yawning. Beetlejuice was still asleep in his chair, unaffected by the change in altitude. He lay completely still and unbreathing. It would look to any outsider like Grace had stolen a corpse from a set of morgue freezers and was smuggling him across state lines. She hoped now wasn't the moment that either of the pilots thought it'd be a good time to check on them. It wouldn't do to go around scaring normies.

None of her clients knew about demons or ghosts outside of what they found out on their own or from whatever ghost adventure television they may watch. She herself only offered a  _ slice _ of the supernatural world to her high paying clients. Any knowledge of the paranormal that her clients may have was knowledge they got  _ before _ coming to her. She wouldn't  _ stop _ anyone from finding out more or diving deeper, but she certainly wouldn't  _ help _ them down the rabbit hole...  _ Not directly _ . That was against NMPTE rules.

Considering all of this, she was glad for the privacy afforded her while traveling with her animated corpse man. She wasn't in the mood for shattering world views or offending delicate living sensibilities anytime soon. Grace scoots to the edge of her seat, closer to the corpse like sleeping body. In a gentle attempt to wake him up she wraps a hand around his cold wrist.

At the contact of such a warm hand suddenly around his wrist the hair on his head started diffusing into a pinker color. Grace stared at the change, still not removing her hand. She wouldn't admit it, but the cooler skin felt nice against her perpetually over-warm hand.  _ I wonder what he's dreaming about? _ She knew the dead could dream, though to what degree changed from ghoul to ghoul. She had learned all about it from the same person who had gifted her the magic  _ stripes. _

So she sat for a moment looking at his face and hair. His shifting hair color was something not detailed in the file she was given about him. It was common among demons to have strange unexplainable anatomy. Even a lot of ghosts exhibited traits out of the ordinary that they didn't have in life. It was a touchy subject for most. Always kept private, even in official documents. Though some ghosts were pretty open about it, every demon Grace had met kept those particular cards close to the vest.

It made sense though, the more you knew about a supernatural creature the easier it is to find a weakness. And demon culture didn't tolerate weakness. Something that hadn't changed since the first hellspawns.

So Grace would sit and wonder, but wouldn't ask. Just in case it was a taboo topic for the man. Though, even if she did, She got the feeling that Beetlejuice would act different.  _ Be  _ different. It was a gut feeling she's had about him since meeting him. It's the reason she accepted the parole case without kicking up a fuss in her department. Her gut feelings had yet to fail her.

All of a sudden Grace feels the wheels of the aircraft touch down and realizes she's been holding his arm for a while now. She snatches her hand back, opting instead for pushing him in the shoulder to wake him.

Beetlejuice's eyes shift open, revealing only the whites of his eyes before the golden irises roll forward. Blinking slowly he sits up like an old man. Which Grace supposed, he was. He rolls his shoulders and limbs, taking stock of himself. The eyebrows underneath his green and brown hairline scrunch together in curious confusion. Lifting the wrist Grace had been holding, he pointed to it.

"Why does my hand feel warm?" he says, still under the last haze of sleep.

Still a tad embarrassed Getty clears their throat. But before they can make up an excuse the pilot speaks over the intercom letting them both know they have arrived in Virginia.

"Wait, Virginia!?" Beetle yells, warm hand now completely forgotten. "Haven't been here in a while, didn't even know this is where we were headed!"

Amber eyes look pointedly at his associate.  "By the way, I consider it a serious lapse in protocol not even letting your own partner know where the job is."

Getty gives him one look before standing from the chair.  "You didn't ask." they answer looking smug at the demon.

Beetlejuice pulls an exaggerated gasp holding his hand over his heart, then hiding his face in the crook of his elbow pretending to cry.

"And here I thought we were best buds! Chillin in coolsville, population two! But you gonna do me dirty like that? I SEE HOW IT IS!"

Without even looking at the blatant show of fake hysterics Getty grabs their bag and begins leaving. The Beetle looks up in time to see the tail end of their shoe leaving the door.

"Hey wait up pal!" He says in a casual chipper tone, bounding down the ramp after his handler.

From the airport they would head to a hotel in the large town. Getty tells Beetlejuice as much as they climb into another, much more average, car. The vehicle had been left for their use and didn't come with a driver, left empty instead, for Getty to drive himself. 

As they drove they talked about everything from pizza toppings to the negative impacts on society that croc shoes cause (Beetlejuice was a fan of crocs and Grace yelled at him for it). Halfway down the highway to town, after an intense conversation about the pros and cons of M. night shyamalan twist endings, Getty looks to their ghostly passenger.

"Hey BJ, we're headed to a hotel, a HUMAN hotel, I need you looking human or I need you invisible, you've gotta choose before we get there."

"Who the hell would wanna look human!?"

"So you're going with invisible?"

" _ I didn't say that! _ "

"So...  _ Human then?" _

"Ugh! I haven't decided, gimme a sec will ya?"

Getty shrugs, saying nothing and punching the radio on for music. Beetlejuice starts mumbling to himself under the music, eyes closed with the seat leaned back as far as it would go. He looked like he was concentrating on something pretty hard. The agent driving left him be, there was still a while before they got to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments from fellow BJ enthusiast are the reason I get out of bed, let me know what you think if you get the chance~


	10. Sanatoriums creep me out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice gets a new look, the duo arrives on the job, and new rivals enter the stage~

The heart of town was busy, it being a weekend. It was a sizable place, shops and outlet stores flowing with people. The coffee shops and restaurants catering to those on their days off from work or school. Grace pulls the car up to the front of the hotel just a few roads away from the heart of activity. She gets out and hands the keys to the valet waiting beside the door. The woman pulls her bright orange luggage from the back seat and carries it over her shoulder towards the door.

Grace looks back at the vehicle for her traveling companion. After a moment of no movement from the passenger side door she turns to leave, assuming an invisible Beetlejuice was following her.

"Yo G-dawg! Don't ditch me man!"

The hard sandpaper voice and the slam of a car door draws Grace's attention to the man who was climbing out and standing before her.

Standing with a relaxed posture, leaning his weight on one leg and arms crossed over his chest, the agent is looking at someone they've never seen before. He had the same solid build as the ghost, but his skin looked warm with life, (or at least a very good imitation of it.) His body void of the marks and scars of death, moss and decay free. His hair was pushed back across his head down past his ears, ending in a ducktail flip at the base of his neck. The hair color was a rich and dark brown, with just the ends a bright green. Looking every inch like human hair dye. Chestnut stubble covered his jaw and the brown hair covered his exposed arms as well. He was wearing a grayscale Hawaiian shirt with accent spots of bright magenta and lime green for the flowers. The pants, a denim looking material, had the black and white stripes the man couldn't seem to stay away from. Grace also noticed that on his right arm were four watches all with different times she'd never seen on him. _Well I've never seen him outside of long sleeves, does he always have those?_ The things left unchanged were the laced and pointed biker boots, his dangerously jagged looking black fingernails and the garnet ring on his left hand.

He looked so human agent Fornax wouldn't have been totally convinced it was Beetlejuice if not for his eyes being the same unnatural amber. He hadn't changed how old he looked though, still rolling with the 32 year old body he'd grown into before he stopped aging as all demons do.

"Watchya starin' at pal?" human Beetle waves a hand in front of his stunned compatriot.

"Oh! It's the Hawaiian shirt ain't it? Can you blame me for not being able to resist such high fashion? Though the matchy-matchy thing was better in my head. Now that we're both wearin' the same thing this is suuuuuper awkward, one of us is gonna have to change." looking pointedly at Getty like he expected _him_ to make the fashion sacrifice. The agent instead drops their bag and starts laughing.

"The shirt looks good on you B-man! You should wear color more often."

Beetlejuice screws up his eyebrows, tilts his head, and sticks his hands in his pockets. A little stunned by the honest compliment he's getting for an obvious barb at Getty's fashion sense. Getty walks back to him and touches the sleeve of his strange festive shirt.

"This is epic, with the whole black and grey color pop thing! I'd love this in my closet back home!"

Standing that close to him, and still a tad mesmerized by the sudden human transformation, Getty reaches up to grab at Beetlejuice's now rounded ears. Between their fingers they feel the pointy bit of his demon ears even if they can't be seen. A nervous involuntary giggle bubbles out of the disguised demon at the contact. He slaps their hand away.

"Watch the touchy touchy! I'm ticklish ya crazy personal space invadin' human!"

"Spfft, that coming from _you?_ Sure, I'm sorry for _invading your bubble_ , now come on we gotta sign in and get settled. The job starts tomorrow and I ain't doing shit with jet lag."

Getty grabs his _human looking_ friend by the wrist to drag him to the desk. As he walks over the tiled floor of the hotel foyer Beetlejuice can feel the heat traveling up his arm from where Getty held it. A quick flashback to earlier and he realizes it was the same warmth from the plane. _It had been because of Getty? Why had Getty been holding my hand?_ Despite his usually airtight control over illusions, the ends of his hair still turned a creamsicle orange color.

No passerby's comment on the color change, but Getty notices the shift and his far-off look. Getty reaches past his ear to the ghoul's hair and lightly flicks the ends, bringing his attention to it.

"You okay BJ?"

Snapping out of his thoughts he can feel more of the human warmth on his ear where their hand had come close.

"Oh! This? S'nothin'" his voice still gravelly and unchanged despite the human suit. He runs his black fingers through his combed back hair, re-solidifying the illusion and shaking the orange confusion from his mane and thoughts.

Getty picked up the hotel key cards and they found the pre booked rooms easily. A short elevator ride later and two beige doors stood before the duo.

"Mine, Yours" Getty says pointing to each door in turn. They hand the poltergeist a plastic key card for the door.

"Don't get caught doing demon garbage while in your human suit, ya?" They moved to open their door but stopped, remembering something. Grabbing a hold of his shoulders they move Beetlejuice in front of a blank wall nearby.

"Just stand right there for a sec" they mumble. From the orange duffel a digital camera is pulled out, turned on, and pointed at the dead man ready to take a photo. The spectre gives Getty a deadpan look and raises a single eyebrow in a sarcastic expression, mouthing the word _ghost_ and gesturing to himself.

"Oh, don't give me that look. The boundaries of your parole cover this. It has to do with the allowance of certain metaphysical properties on this plane of exi~ eh, screw that. If I tell you it's gonna work Just shut up and stand where I tell you!"

"Someones cranky" He scoffs and rolls his eyes. The demon turns to the camera giving it an over the top Hollywood smile while his hands point finger guns at the lens. Very reminiscent of the mugshot in his file. Then a click and a flash and the small device is shoved back into the colorful bag, it's job done.

"I'll have you know my image is trademarked and any profit you make off that will have us meeting in court." jabbing a finger at Getty's chest. "Unless you wanna slide me a slice of that action ahead of time, I'm sure we could work something out." he finishes with an over exaggerated wink.

" _Goodnight_ Beetlejuice. If you need something... find the strength within yourself to NOT bother me" hesitating a moment they stop, "unless you _actually_ need something-just- use your noodle" pointing to his head, "I know you have one." And with that Getty is in their room leaving Beetlejuice alone to stand in the boring hallway.

...

...

"Ooookaaay" He had a whole night of free time before their job tomorrow and he wasn't sure what to do with it. Was there a red light district nearby? He hadn't seen one from the way they drove in. He didn't know the city, or how far he could go from Getty before his _magic ankle bracelet_ went off. Ideally he would drag his parole officer with him for the ride, as a safety measure _and_ a walking ATM. _The guy doesn't look like he gets enough action in his life, I could definitely help with that!_ He goes to knock on the door but the agents comment about jet lag and being exhausted echoed in his head. He was in the mood for fun, not an irritated Getty.

"Urgh, humans are SOoOOoooOo fragile, if they're not hungry then they're tired, it's always something!" He crossed his arms and stood there until finally accepting his plans had no hope. Despite his thoughts about human tiredness being a weakness he lets out a yawn of his own. After checking one of his many time pieces he figures he won't get anything more out of Getty until morning. If the guy wasn't already asleep he would be soon.

He vowed to himself as he opened his door that before they went back, he would drag Getty to at _least_ a strip club, for a night out. **One way or another**. Now in his room he flops on his bed, ignoring the decor that makes him wanna vomit before promptly dropping off the edge of consciousness.

\---

Morning came with Grace gently shaking her ghost companion awake, having come through the conjoining door between their rooms. The sleeping spectre just mumbles something about guacamole, then rolls away without waking up. With no results Grace opts instead for a pitcher of water, throwing the liquid in his face. It has him bolt upright in bed immediately

"I'M AWAKE!"

"You are now," she says holding the empty pitcher and smiling.

"Make a habit a wakin' up demons with a face full a water and you're on the fast track to gettin' yer head chopped off on _reflex_." He said mildly irritated and glaring at his parole officer. He pulls a towel out of nowhere and goes about drying himself off. The agent just scoffs and laughs a little, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"Hey, did you sleep in your human suit? I can't really tell, it's kinda, smudged? And... only one of your ears is pointy right now?"

"Huh?" he looks down at his hands confirming what they said, "ya, I guess I did. My illusions stick around sometimes even when I'm not doing anything with 'em. Sometimes I forget what I'm wearin'."

Grace was pretty impressed that the demon used such sturdy and powerful illusions so casually, but she couldn't muster anything beyond that because it reminded her of a drunk party girl who fell asleep in her makeup. Then Grace thought of what he'd look like as a drunk party girl and shivered. The breather shook their head to free themselves of the thought and handed Beetlejuice a plain black wallet.

"You're gonna need this if you're gonna hang _"human style"_ with me." She said using air quotes.

Pale hands took the offered wallet immediately rummaging through it. It had cash, a few Melinoë business cards, a sleeve of condoms, and a driver's license. It even had some wear and tear and a few crumpled receipts for authenticity. All the trimmings of an average human wallet. But what caught Beetlejuice's attention was the license.

"What in the deep fried hell is this!?"

He'd spent enough time dealing faulty ones to know the little plastic card was every inch a perfect counterfeit. It's info detailing his appearance and age and even that he was an organ donor, _Ha!_ It had his human suit photo in the corner and everything.

"Well that explains last nights sudden photo opp--wait, did you work on this all night?" peeking over the card at Getty he could see the dark circles on their face confirming his assumption. 

"Don't worry bug man, I got a couple hours of shut eye" Getty says waving him off.

Looking back at the I.D. he finally notices an extra bit of info. Shooting wide eyes at his pal and laughing through his words.

"Who the hell is Benjamin G. Morfran?"

"That's YOU, well, when you're pretending to be human. Benjamin G. Morfran is who you're gonna be whenever you need to play down the whole _demon_ thing. A secret identity, an alter ego, whatever you wanna call it."

"What does the 'G' stand for?"

...

"Geist"

...

...

His face splits into a huge grin. "HAHAHAHA! *wheeze* OH GODS THAT'S _TO_ GOOD! HAHAHA- oh wait you're serious"

Getty smacks a hand over their face, mumbling. "I'm not that creative."

"Well if you went down _that_ road, then what's the last name mean?" His evil smile twitching with what he knew was coming.

"It... kinda means demon."

Beetlejuice folds over in laughter while Getty turns away in embarrassment.

"I told you I'm not that creative!~" Beetle holds a hand up for them to stop, still laughing.

"Au contraire! This is freakin' hilarious, better than my actual last name!"

"Well, I know it's still kinda dumb. I just figured you'd rather fill your pants with gila monsters before having a normal last name like smith. If you end up not liking it we can change it."

The dead man pauses his laughing to look at the still slightly red agent. Struck once again by the small bits of consideration the living netherworld cop kept showing him.

"What!? Nah, G-man I can work with this" nudging them in the side with his elbow.

The breather sitting with him nods and stands, smoothing out their latest Hawaiian shirt. It was a light yellow covered with white flowers and red tropical birds. It hung open revealing a black undershirt and their usual silver medallion. Regular jeans rolled at the ankle to show off black and white striped shoelaces in rugged combat boots. Armed with a smaller gray backpack along with the usual horrendously bright duffel, Getty looked ready to take on the day.

"You gonna change now? Or do you want privacy~"

"PSSHH, _Privacy?"_ The dead man stands from the bed and snaps his fingers changing his clothes and fixing his human appearance back into place with a flash. Still in his favorite pointy mud stained biker boots and wearing the arm full of watches, the only thing he changed was the shirt and pants. Now wearing an untucked and pretty wrinkled dress shirt that was patterned with his favorite stripes. And dark gray pants that had grass and dirt stains on the knees. The sleeves were rolled up just past the elbows displaying his time pieces and lower forearms.

It was a good look, Grace had to admit. _He's definitely more well built than I thought,_ she thought while appraising the arms made visible by the rolled up sleeves. But her ears turned pink when the demon almost caught her eyes watching him. She pushes the thoughts out, focusing instead on his choice of clothes.

"Aw man, no more aloha shirts? I thought I'd converted you to the tropical side of things!" She says pointing to her own bird covered shirt. "Now you're back to monochromatic~ Disappointing."

"Well I look sexy in everything I wear and I didn't wanna steal yer thunder. 'Cause if it comes down to who wears it better, _you've got NO chance~."_ He smirks, licking a finger and touching the back of his pants where it literally starts steaming like water in a pan.

" _No Chance!"_ he hisses again for emphasis.

Grace, ears now half a shade pinker, laughs hard at the display of demonic ego. She walks to the door to leave.

"Come on ya sizzlin' bastard, breakfast first, then to work!"

"Are ya actually gonna tell me what we're doin' now or not?"

"Oh! Finally curious huh?" She opens the door to the hall with a sweeping gesture of her arms. "I'll tell you on the way, so get your ugly and rotting backside in gear!"

"Geez Getty, didn't know you had a speech impediment. It's actually pronounced _'hot and sexy backside'_ , honest mistake, happens all the time."

Rolling her eyes in annoyance she pushes a cackling Beetlejuice through the door towards the promising smell of hotel bagels.

\---

The sunlight was a dull gray, painting the road and the tightly packed trees on either side with muted tones. What was probably a vibrant forest during the summer was now subdued by cold weather and bleak autumn skies. The only visual relief were the trees that still had red, orange and gold leaves. Driving down the small road through the woods Grace and Beetlejuice saw no change in the moving scenery.

"Wait, Back it up G-dawg. We're headed to an abandoned sanatorium!? Ugh, I hate group homes like those, always filled with lame ghosts and bitchy newly deads." Grace rolled her eyes at the comment and continued to explain the job ahead of them.

Most spirits still on the mortal plane where there to serve their time as ghosts. Haunting a given place or, very rarely, a given person or item. But in case the building or location are destroyed, the ghosts are left with very few options. And since it was such a common problem, steps were taken to provide new haunts for the lost spirits.

The solution was to put large groups together in abandoned or undesirable places that people avoided so they could finish their haunting period. Beetlejuice had been right to call them something like group homes. And if the location had a fierce enough haunting reputation to keep people away, all the better. If all went well, the most the dead residents would have to deal with would be occasional visits from thrill seeking teenagers.

The problem calling for agent Fornax's involvement had only recently been brought to the attention of netherworld management.

This asylum and its dead occupants were dangerously close to being put on a haunted locations **tourist map** . Magazines like _Haunted Hunter Monthly, Ghoul Girl,_ and _The New Pagans Guide_ were advertising them as must see spots for the "spiritually curious". Bustling tours, ouija board sessions, local teens, upstart "investigators"; they'd all flock to the new site. It was a stomach turning fate. And each haunt it happened to eventually had to be abandoned after the influx of living human traffic. The backlog on paperwork alone was a nightmare. 

The agent was there to try and stop it, and she explained as much to Beetlejuice. At the mention of human tourists he grimaced and stared out the window like he was having a pretty serious flashback. She could sympathize, sometimes the human tourists were scarier than the monsters.

Grace finishes explaining as they drive around a bend in the road. Almost as soon as she's done talking they come to a break in the sea of trees. The wall of vegetation opened up to a large man made clearing, at the center of which was their destination.

The large building stood in stark contrast to its surroundings. The asylum sprawled across the grassy clearing rising four stories off the ground. The once manicured gravel road that led to the entrance was now overgrown and scattered. Constant exposure and lack of a recent paint job left the building a sun bleached white. It closely resembled a bleached carcass left in the woods for scavengers.

The small car and its passengers drove up the gravel path parking just shy of the front doors. Climbing out Grace stood before the building, carefully looking it over and standing very still. After several minutes of this Beetlejuice impatiently smacks the breathers shoulder.

"Hey! Buddy, we goin' in? Or didya come here to stare at it." Grace just glares at him without answering. Before another quip about wasting time passes his lips the young woman crouches to the duffle she had pulled from the car and the gray backpack that sat with it.

Pulling the same camera from the hotel out from the bag she lifts it to her eyes. She snaps a couple pictures of the entrance before leaving the bags and the car to skirt the edge of the building all while taking photos.

Beetlejuice stayed right on her heels while she walked. The click of the camera and the chatter from the man behind her being all that filled the silence.

"Why ya takin' pictures? Got a creepy scrapbook or s'mn?"

*CLICK*

"Oh! It's recon isn't it?"

*CLICK*

"I'm thinking about starting a new celebrity diet that's 90% cocaine, any thoughts?"

*CLICK*

"Are you a dog person or a cat person? You strike me as someone who'd punt a cat across a room given the chance, sooooo~"

*CLICK*

"Ugh, this place is just a big boring square!... Juno'd prob'ly like it"

*CLICK*

"Does anyone alive even listen to Elvis anymore? I honestly wanna know. Side note, is ABBA still a thing?"

*CLICK*

"Let's just deal with this already! In 'n out, easy peasy! You're treatin' a small time scare job like it's a career ender."

Getty stiffens but keeps walking, looking over their shoulder. The face they turn his way was stern.

"I _have_ to do well on these jobs or else- ... Just do your best to help out, alright?"

_Oh? Do I smell job dissatisfaction and a possible workplace ultimatum? Well well well, looks like I was correctomundo. If I play my cards right this first little job of ours will be very informative._ Beetlejuice smiled to himself, ready to jump right into parole officer and parolee bonding time!

"Taking even the small jobs seriously huh? All the folks down in management must walkin' on air knowin' they got someone like you battin' fer em topside!" he says as he walks a foot off the ground through the air for emphasis.

Getty scoffs, "Not everyone, BJ. A lot of the ghouls down under aren't super jazzed about having me on their team. Even though **_I'm_ ** _not the one who- *_ Ahem*...some of them don't like me very much."

_Workplace drama, you know I love it._ "Aw jeez, colleagues given ya a rough time? Reminds me a' some trouble I tripped into with the bio exorcist union. Learned hard and fast about the folly a' sleepin' your way to the top."

"Learned your lesson with that didya?"

"You bet G-man, learned my lesson, now I know how to do it **right** ." he said with a demented and lecherous look in his eyes like he was recalling a fond memory. "But something about that just dudn't sit right, the deadbeats downstairs are always lookin fer ways to avoid paperwork. And they aren't singin' your praise from on high for doing half their jobs? Why? _Did something happen_?" leaning in just a bit closer.

Getty fiddled with the camera huffing in exasperation. "It's not about anything I _did_ or _didn't_ do. The other agents are just jealous because I'm alive and that gets me- wait a minute."

_C'mon, just a little more~ All ya gotta do is tell ol' BJ what's on your mind!_ "Damn buddy, if ya keep cuttin' yerself off like that folks'll start thinking you don't like talking to 'em."

"And if **you** don't stop fishing for information, I'll start thinking your _up to something_ "

_Well shit. That ended quickly. Was I a little heavy handled? Probably. But I hadn't even gotten to the really juicy questions yet! What's got Getty so clammed up over normal stuff?_

"Whoa! Slow your role ace detective, I'm just curious about my _favorite_ parole officer. Can ya blame a guy for trying?"

"Yes! Yes I can! Besides, I'm your _only_ parole officer"

"Well you're not my _first_ parole officer, but don't worry" he winks "First times aren't everything, we can still make this special~"

Getty's lips tighten into a line and Beetlejuice can tell they're trying to keep themselves from laughing. They pick up their pace and continue taking photos of the buildings perimeters while eyeing the demon over their shoulder.

"You're absolutely hopeless, ya know that?" the agent says with a brighter tone, "A total lost cause."

"Whoa, hey! Isn't your job all about reform? Helping me back onto the righteous path? Say stuff like that and I might lose my motivation to be a better ghoul! And here I thought you took your job seriously."

The agent just laughed in his face. understandably.

The first stab at info weaseling had been a bust, and the demon had prepared himself for a verbal lashing. So he was pleasantly surprised when the breather shrugged it off so easily and went back to their 'business mode' light attitude. _This guy is waaay too forgiving for someone who has to deal with_ **_me_ ** _. Not that you'll catch me complaining._

The pair was approaching the far side of the facility, a bit more walking and they'd meet back with the car.

Grace stopped suddenly making Beetlejuice run into them nearly toppling them both.

"Whoa! The fuck Getty!? Your legs turn to lead or s'mn?" The Beetle leaned over Grace's shoulder to look at her face. The expression was confusion quickly turning into a venom filled glare. It took him a second to realize it wasn't directed at him but something in the distance.

Grace snarled under her breath " **Motherfucker** ".

"Wait! What is it? What are you looking at? I don't get it!" Exclaimed the dead man, still leaning over her shoulder. He pressed his face next to hers to match her line of sight and see the object of irritation. Parked in the trees on the side of the building was a black van with a weird symbol on the side.

"I still don't get it."

As if his words snapped her out of a stupor Grace turns suddenly grabbing him by the upper arms. She had a look of mild panic as she looked at Beetle up and down. Stunned by the turn around in attitude he stood stock still under the humans eyes. After giving him a once over Grace relaxed.

"Whew, You're still in your human suit." they sighed, releasing his arms.

Before the agent turns away again Beetlejuice leans in and flicks them hard on the forehead. "Hey! Mister cryptic _I won't tell you anything important unless you ask_ , what the hell was that about?" he snaps.

Getty rubs their forehead "just wanted to make sure you still looked human." Beetlejuice raises a dark eyebrow silently telling the mortal to continue before his patience for their riddle bullshit thinned completely.

They sigh, "Do you know who that van belongs to?" he shakes his head no. He looks at the van again. Upon closer inspection the weird symbol looked like a screaming ghost face. Getty continues, "That thing belongs to a pair of the most self important jackasses I've _ever_ met in the paranormal community."

Beetlejuice looks sidelong at the agent. "So?" he deadpans.

"So!? You don't get it. That van" Getty says angrily pointing "Belongs to a ' _For television_ ' paranormal investigation team called the **_Ghoul Chasers_ **." Getty spits on the ground after saying the name.

Realization dawns on Beetlejuice, his eyes widening. "oh...OH!"

"Ya" Getty says, still brimming with irritation and mild loathing. "If those clowns see you looking anything other than human I'll never hear the end of it." The demon grimaces along with them.

The van meanwhile, just sat there. An omen for future headaches.

The two continued their circumference of the building passing right by the van. Beetlejuice steps from Getty's side towards the vehicle. Getty stops to watch him saying nothing and quirking an eyebrow.

His black fingernails grew and stretched into two inch long talons as he walked casually closer. He looks over his shoulder and sees Getty's questioning eyebrow and answers by wiggling his own. His living pal made no move to stop him and he smiled at the silent permission. That is until he raised his hand to slash their tires. He halted midway with a shout from Getty.

"Stop, idiot!" They marched towards him through the crackling leaves.

"Whaaaaaat!" He whined.

"Don't slash their tires you dolt!"

"Oh come on! Ya just finished talkin' about how much you hate these guys. Don't tell me your bleeding heart extends to _these_ losers!"

"What!? It doesn't! If you slash their tires how are they supposed to leave when you scare the shit outta them?"

"You weren't stopping me a second ago!"

"A second ago I thought your plan was to key their car! I don't want them stranded with us while we try to do our job!"

Beetlejuice paused, claws still extended. "Oh,"

Getty lets out a short huff, "Ya, _oh._ "

Shuffling in the crunching leaves the dead man retracts his claws. Surprised by this the agent steps around him pulling out and jingling a set of keys.

"If you're not gonna key this bitch I will." They say smiling at their dead company with a decidedly evil grin. Beetlejuice matches their grin with enthusiasm, his horrific claws sliding back out.

He chuckles darkly, "Move over, I call dibs on the drivers side door!"

They both smile at each other before getting to work. The ungodly sound of metal shrieking against metal filled the woods around them. Neither looked at the other's work, too absorbed in their own to bother.

The ear breaking sound stopped and both artists stepped back to admire the vandalism. Beetlejuice spoke first.

"Is that _CALLIGRAPHY!?"_

Getty's given portion of the van now sported the word 'Fraud' in large elegant and very loopy letters.

Eyes then turned to the driver's door, Beetlejuice's canvas of choice.

"Hmm can't say I'm surprised. But I AM impressed, that is very detailed."

"Thanks, it's a talent" the demon says pompously inspecting his nails, a hand on his hip. The door now had a very well rendered picture of his favorite part of male anatomy.

Grace puts a hand on his shoulder wearing a very serious face. "You sir, are a true artist."

Beetle mimics Grace, resting his hand on her same arm with an equally serious expression. "It takes one to know one."

Unable to hold their straight faces any longer the pair double over in peels of laughter. Grace's laugh was almost musical, but would skip and break making her sound more like a scratched record. Beetlejuice's laugh was a pitch higher than his normal speaking voice and gave the impression he'd gargled salt water for a week before indulging in a nice tall glass of broken asphalt. It seemed every laughing fit they shared led to one or both rolling on the ground. And the trend continued with Agent Fornax and the Demon Shaggoth writhing in the brittle leaves next to the van.

Still choking on laughter, Beetlejuice stands and hauls Grace to her feet. Holding both her arms to steady her he spoke up. "Hehe, seriously though, what are we gonna do about these asshats?"

Grace took a couple deep breaths before answering. "We'll have to do _something_. Them being here throws a wrench into my previous plans."

"What _was_ your first plan?"

"Well I knew people would come to stake out the place before advertising it. I figured we get here first and tell the residents to lay low to discredit the haunting rumors. Then have you teach them some scaring techniques to keep the locals away and we'd be done!"

"Simple, straightforward, I love it" The ghoul says nodding along. "And we can't still do that, _why?_ "

"Because the team they sent for scouting is _them_ " She says gesturing to the accursed van. "And whether a creepy place is actually haunted or not has never stopped them from saying it is and making a buck."

She looked up at the building that still loomed beside them. "I won't have any better ideas until I can get a feel for the situation. Follow my lead when we're in there alright?"

The man still holding her arms uttered a noncommittal noise and rolled his eyes.

"Or," she said sternly "you can wait in the car."

He made a gagging motion at the idea of hanging back for what would be the first episode of their epic buddy cop adventure show.

"Alright! I got it- _can do_ \- I can take a hint, right behind you el capitán." he said with a salute and a sarcastic smirk.

Grace scoffs and leaves him standing there, walking the now short distance back to the front. The car and the bags hadn't been moved during their short jaunt through the surrounding woods. Grace crouched by the orange bag and slipped the small camera back inside. She hefted the bright duffel over one arm and the small gray backpack over the other. Beetlejuice had caught up and over his shoulder was resting a large wood splitting axe that hadn't been there a second ago.

The young woman eyed the glinting blade he shifted in hand. His face was neutral but she could tell he was trying to hide some excitement.

"Hey buddy, ah- what's that for?" pointing to the axe.

"It's a precaution," Grace threw him a dubious look. "What!? Ya never know! And it's better to be safe than screwed. These guys sound like real animals." He drops the axe down, balancing the heavy top end on the toe of his biker boot. "We _could_ take care of this with very little effort, just puttin' it out there!"

The agent squinted at him. "The only animal here is you BJ" They had a stare off with the undead bastard until he groaned in annoyance and threw the axe away. It spun from his hand like a frisbee, lodging itself in a tree five yards away with a thunk.

The two started towards the heavy metal doors, pushing inside.

The entrance was a long hallway that after a while opened up into a large empty room dotted with concrete pillars that might have at one point been ornamental but were now only load bearing structures. The floor was covered with large smooth tiles, many of them broken and cracked with debris collecting in the corners. The size and shape would've led Grace to compare it to a modest ballroom if it didn't so obviously reek of hospital. The sparse windows let weak autumn light into the dust filled room. Some catching just right and making columns of light in the thick air.

The whole sanatorium was more or less symmetrical, the middle point being the front doors. Making the room they now stood in the center and heart of the building. This also meant that it was the perfect spot for the base camp of the Ghoul Chasers.

And that's exactly what the living/dead duo now faced. The center of the room was covered in large metal cases, equipment placed around in a vague circle. Tripods and cameras dotted the area and stage lighting was placed around the encampment.

Standing within the makeshift camp were five people. To the side were two guys in maybe their early 30's, looking over a floor plan of the building and standing with an air of _know-it-all_ that made them look very punchable in Beetlejuice's opinion. The first, with short dark hair and a soul patch, the other with longer brown hair with red dyed streaks.

Sitting on one of the large cases near them was a more heavy set man who looked much older and who had silver in his beard and the hair he'd pulled back in a ponytail. He was hunched over a large shoulder mounted camera fiddling with the settings. The last two were a young man and woman sitting with a laptop connected to several screens. The man looked younger, but Grace couldn't really tell, he had sideburns for daaaays and an impressive mustache that kept her from guessing accurately. The woman was tall, looked to be close to her age, and had short fluffy blonde hair held back by a thick fabric headband.

A noticeable feature of the whole group was that they all wore the same warm looking **Ghoul Chasers** ™ hoodies. She raised an eyebrow at the jackets before remembering that it was cold with the fall weather and she was the weird one for wearing so little. Even Beetlejuice's human disguise was dressed more suitably than her. A little self conscious, she tugged the short sleeved Hawaiian shirt into place. She loved her offensively bright shirts, but she was well aware that it didn't help her professional image as the "premier leader of occult knowledge in north America". _Psh, get ahold of yourself Grace, bigger fish to fry and all that._

They had started walking towards the group but they hadn't been noticed yet. Not until Beetlejuice raised two fingers to his mouth and whistled so sharply it felt more like a whip crack. The small group jumped at the sound, looking up in surprise at the two invaders.

Grace angled her head at her companion, shooting him a withering glare. "Is that what you call following my lead?"

The demon looked back with wide eyes, the picture of mock innocence. "Is _that_ what you meant when you said that? Seen but not heard? I guess being arm candy is all I'm good for!" he said dramatically holding a hand to his forehead.

"Arm candy... right. I _wish_ you were good for at least that." Grace says as they both openly glare at each other, squaring off.

They both ignored the approach of the two head ghoul chasers during their little exchange.

"Are you two done with your lovers spat?" the dark haired one says, interrupting the staring contest. Beetlejuice crinkles his brow in confusion while the ends of Graces ears and face redden.

""Lovers spat!?"" They say in unison, both rushing to correct them.

"I-I'm not"

"We're not-"

"He's a colleague"

"Just pals!"

"A consultant"

"L-like a freelancer"

"Just my Partner"

"Ya, we-... Wait, partners?"

Beetlejuice looks at Grace clasping his hands together. "You think of me as a partner?" he says choking up on over exaggerated fake tears and a little bit of genuine happiness he'd never admit too.

"Beej calm down"

"HOW can I calm down after finding out how much you care about me!" He wraps an arm around the breather, leaning on them more with every word.

"Jesus christ BJ, you're gonna flatten me! Can you please get-"

"Who ARE you guys!!" One of the men shouted. The two ghoul chasers had stood watching the back and forth, irked at being ignored for a second time. Both of the strangely dressed duo snapped to look at the interruption. _It's like 35 degrees out and we're in an abandoned asylum, what's this lady doing in just a Hawaiian shirt? And what did this dude do before coming here? Crawl through a bag of grass clippings and mulch?_

Standing back from each other the ghoul and human straightened collars and smoothed wrinkles respectively. Grace met the two mens gaze with a glare of distaste. Beetlejuice stood just behind, with his arms crossed, doing a good job of looking intimidating.

Agent Fornax addressed the two men in front of her. "Steve, Michael." looking at both in turn, then to the group standing behind them. "Others."

The dark haired one, Steve, smirked, "So you know who we are, our ghost hunting reputation precedes us." Opening his mouth to say more, his co-host Michael tapped his shoulder, pointing to the large orange duffel Grace had dropped at her feet. The side of the bag had a Melinoë company logo Beetlejuice hadn't noticed there before.

Recognition flared in Steve's eyes. His pompous but friendly attitude melted and he sneered at the two in front of him.

"What do Melinoë company foot soldiers want with us?"

Before Grace could answer his snide comment Beetlejuice, who'd been quiet so far, boiled over.

"You think we're _LACKIES!?_ Screw you buddy!!" Since using his ghostly reputation to put this breather in his place was off the table Beetle decided the weight of his pals position would be good enough.

"Do you know who this is?" he nearly shouted with a growl, gesturing dramatically to his parole officer. "Your standing in front of the fuckin' owner of-"

With lightning like speed Getty's hand shot out covering his mouth before anyone could hear him. Keeping their hand in place they answer the television host.

"We're not here for _you_ , we're here for the building and what's inside. Our _boss_ sent us to survey. Believe me, if the boss knew you'd be here _different_ measures would've been taken."

"Is that a _threat?"_ The Michael one spat.

"Ya sure, 'cause you and your gameshow crew are worth threatening"

"W-we are NOT a gameshow!" Says mister soul patch indignantly. "We're a team of serious paranormal researchers. And unlike _you_ and your glorified ghost cult, we are professionals!"

At this moment most of what was being said was going totally unnoticed by the dead man standing with them. He stood with a dazed look on his face, seemingly in a trance, like what would happen if you held a chicken or nurse shark upside down. All his senses were paying attention to the hand over his mouth. Much smaller than his own, really soft, and soooo warm. Were all breathers this warm? He couldn't really remember but he felt like the answer was no. It smelled like soap, human skin, and something sweet. The sudden contact had pushed nearly every composed thought from his head.

Beetlejuice tried to pay attention to the conversation and picked up on some comments that would have thrown him into another fit of anger. But the hand still on his face shifted a bit every now and then, moving the slender digits over his ice cold lips, proving to be a greater distraction. His eyes were forward and to everyone present he seemed like he was at least listening, but the only thought going through his head was _I wonder if it tastes as good as it smells?_

And because the demon had **zero** self control he moved to hold the hand in place over his mouth and licked it out to the fingers.

The agent beside him squealed and pulled their hand from his grasp. The embarrassed flush was evident as their ears turned a dark shade of pink. Everyone in the small group including his partner/victim looked at him with faces that said _what the FUCK?_ But all the ghoul was concerned with was that, yes, it _had_ tasted as good as it smelled.

Grace swats his arm with a vengeance. "What the HELL BJ! There are easier ways of letting me know you didn't want my hand there anymore!"

Beetlejuice scoffs. "Ya, and there are easier ways to deal with these dipshits, but ya made me leave my axe in the car." he said half angry and half pouting.

Grace rolled her eyes, noticing with amusement the two men taking a not so subtle step away from Beetlejuice. _Casual death threats tend to elicit that reaction_. She wiped her hand on the demon's sleeve, hoping unfriendly eyes didn't notice it was faintly glowing.

"Come on BJ, we're done with these fools. Let's get back to work; if these guys are smart they won't bug us." She said in a much more even tone.

They walk past the ghoul chasers " _camp"_ on their way to the rest of the building. When they got closer to the other crew members Beetlejuice curled his hands into fists and growled low in his throat. Eyeing them with narrowed slits he took a sudden lunging step towards them making the group flinch. Stepping back he laughed a manic rough laugh that scared the humans almost as much as the growl. He looked at them with a crooked grin. _Paranormal investigators, ya sure. And I'm the queen of England._

"That's what I thought." Spitting on the ground with a loud spat, he went to catch back up with his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got a spare moment and a keyboard, leave a comment! Every comment you leave is another offering on the sacrificial burning pyre to the eldritch gods~


	11. The best laid plans of ghouls and men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rift in the partnership appears, BJ has A LOT of arms, and the ghoul and human lay down some plans~

He fell back into step with Getty as they walked to the end of the hallway and to the bottom of a stairway. Juicing himself to the top ahead of the agent, Beetlejuice calls down to them.

"So what's the word G-man? We got a plan now er' what?" His human counterpart answers as best they can while trudging up the steps under the weight of their bags.

"Still not done with step one Beej." Now at the top they meet his inhuman eyes and continue. "Get a feel for the situation remember? I still need to talk to the residents of this place."

The demon rolls his head back groaning in anguish. "Uuugh, Half the folks who end up in dumps like these were to white bread to scare a claim on their territory and got kicked out! I know people like them,  _ I've dealt with the type _ . Who do you think hires me?" Grace could tell it was a sore subject with how strained his tone was and elected not to interrupt. "Every one a' them is always " _ Oh mister demon, Please help us!"  _ an' not  **five minutes later** it's all  _ "Mister demon, you can't do that! That's going too far!"  _ or,  _ "you could've hurt someone!"  _ or  _ "stop looking up my wife's skirt!"  _ or " _ You're a menace to society!"  _ He said it all in a high whiny voice; Grace wasn't sure who he was trying to imitate.

"An' I try to help, like the GIVING person I am! But they always screw ya over  _ one way or another! _ So when shit goes sideways **I'M** the one stuck with the bill! Trapped in a room fer another eternity with the longest number they know how to print!" The agent wasn't totally sure what that last part meant.

The rant had started as an irritated grumble, but by the time he finished he was shouting and his hair blistered red at whatever memory had taken hold of his mind. He was seething at the idea of talking to more people like  _ them. _ More people he had to adjust himself for, because  _ Satan forbid _ he offend their traditional human sensibilities.

He had effectively worked himself into a rage. Getty stood beside him and rested the bags on the ground to nervously place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort.

"I know BJ... I-I know." They were the best words that the agent could sincerely come up with. But they were apparently the wrong ones.

Beetlejuice rounded on them with a snarl. "Don't patronize me,  **_human_ ** ." He swatted the hand on his shoulder away. "You don't know shit about  _ me  _ OR what happened."

Getty hesitated, mouth parted about to say something but deciding against it. Leaving him alone seemed the best option. They stepped away and continued walking while the Beetle stared a hole through the back of their head. The demon muttered behind them

"Living er' not, fuckin'  _ Empties  _ are all the same."

The agent froze, back still facing away from him. The atmosphere changed in an instant, pressure built in the hallway as the demon seemed to finally hear his own words.

When someone says the acronym NMPTE out loud it can't help but sound like the word 'Empty'. But the insult was used for reasons besides the clever word play. The enforcers of the netherworld were well known for operating as if totally devoid of emotion. It was the result of careful training for dealing with the manipulative paranormal beings that populated the great beyond. But it did not endear them to the netherworld public. Seen as puppets with no emotion or agency of their own they were given the derogatory title 'Empty'.

For earthly comparison, Beetlejuice supposed it was a few levels worse than calling a cop a 'Pig'...  _ A lot worse. _

And he'd used it as flippantly as he did with other agents without even thinking about it. The demon had used it the first time they'd met but they hadn't known each other at the time. And Beetlejuice hadn't been trying to be nice. In his moment of anger he'd forgotten that Getty held all the cards in this arrangement.  _ Getting on his good side was the whole damn point! _ Realizing this poured a bucket of very cold water on his blazing anger.

Getty was a nice guy, too nice in the demon's opinion, But he'd crossed a line. He didn't even need to ask if they were mad, he knew they were. Because the suffocating pressure in the hallway wasn't coming from him.

The human stood, still not moving, shoulders tense, having yet to explode. Beetlejuice took an unconscious step back, fidgeting with his sleeves. His hair was a sickly yellow now.

That was it, his long game of cozying up to Getty was totally blown! He just knew it. If you're genuinely mean  _ one time _ during these things it ruins the mark. The nice guy routine won't work on the same person twice.

So there he stood, shifting from foot to foot waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Without looking back Getty spoke in a low whisper just loud enough to hear. "I was given the incident report about what happened when I agreed to be your parole officer. If you're looking for someone who knows about being swept up in a thankless job for people who hate you, try asking the only living ' _ Empty' _ on this god forsaken plane of existence."

While they spoke, the air around him made Beetlejuice feel like something terrible was about to happen, pressing down on him.

Then, all of a sudden, the pressure that had been building up disappeared. The atmosphere of the hallway cleared as if the walls had been holding their breath finally exhaled.

The human before him rolled their shoulders, shaking tension from their arms. Finally turning around to look at him their face was almost totally back to normal, their tone light and casual. Everything about them spoke of relaxed casualness, like the horrible pressure and intensity had never happened. But Beetlejuice was no wet behind the ears petty dabbler. He wouldn't have made it this far as a demon or con artist without being able to pick up on the details.

Their body language was doing a good job of looking calm but their hands were shaking slightly. Getty's neck also still had tension in it. But what caused the Beetle to furrow his brow in worry was their eyes. Something smothering and dark was roiling just behind the copper brown.

But he couldn't recognize what.

The breather let out a sigh and smiled. "I'm gonna go talk to the residents, you don't have to come if you don't want to. I'm not gonna push you."

The total  _ lack _ of anger gave him a bad case of goosebumps more than anything. He would prefer to deal with an explosion of anger. How was he supposed to deal with a claymore mine he wasn't sure had been disarmed or not? He'd just have to adapt like he always did.

And with that the human continued down the hall towards the spiritual epicenter of the asylum. Not looking back to see if he'd follow.

\---

Grace knew he was following even though she heard no footsteps, she could feel his presence as he maintained a six foot gap between them. They were at the doors for the third floor rec room, where they both knew the residents gathered due to the thick spiritual energy. Every building had a spot like it. A room or place that it was just easier for ghosts to be in. An empty bedroom, a spooky basement, or an old attic.

Grace looked at Beetlejuice still in his human suit.  _ Is his hair more yellow than I remember it?  _ He was flouting almost seven inches off the ground out of habit and probably nerves.

"Beetlejuice" she said, causing his head to snap forward.

"Yes?" He answered immediately, perking up like a puppy.

"You're floating...In your human suit. If you look human you gotta  _ act _ human." Grace intoned lightly pointing at his feet.

"Yes sir." He said dropping to the ground like a stone.

Still in a maddeningly light, normal and friendly voice they nodded, "You need to be more careful Beetlejuice."

He flinched internally at the use of his full name.  _ This is the  _ **_worst_ ** _. They have to be mad! They can't  _ **_not_ ** _ be mad after that! _

Was using ' _sir'_ a little much? Maybe. But he wasn't keen on screwing himself over any more than he already had and where was the harm in laying it on a little thick? At this point the demon saw the path to ' _friendship'_ going steadily up in flames. It left him with walking on eggshells and trying to prove to Getty he was at least an irreplaceable tool. His motto for the rest of the job would be _"Model helpful partner"_ , swear to Satan. And he hoped it would work.

His attention stayed on Getty even as they entered a room filled with other spirits and ghouls. He watched the humans face for any visual cues for what they could be feeling. But their face was as close to stone as living flesh could get. Even the churning energy he had seen earlier behind the agents eyes was gone. Everything was back to normal, but still seemed wrong.

Beetlejuice looked up realizing Getty had started introductions.

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you all. I'm agent Fornax, please refer to me as such. And this~" Nodding over to him, whose eyebrows raised in hope, "~Is a consultant."

_ Ouch _ .

"I'm the agent assigned to your case." The room held about 20-30 ghosts, many were standing with others sitting together on the worn out couches and chairs. One of them stood toward the front of the group and was the one to approach Getty.

The older woman who stepped forward was a brunette with long hair that fell to the back of her pants. Her white blouse and high waisted smartly cut pants spoke of the 50's. It looked like she might have died during her later years, maybe 60? She was every inch the upper middle class suburban housewife. It sent a shiver down Beetlejuice's spine

"Why is it always people like this? They're everywhere." he whispered to himself with a grimace.

"I'm Sharron Burkowsky, the elected leader of our little haunt away from home. I expect you'll be wanting my help since I know the facility and have been keeping an eye on the interlopers downstairs." She looked exceedingly proud of herself for something he was sure the other ghosts in the room knew just as well. She extended a hand to shake with agent Fornax. The second their hands touched she recoiled.

"Good LORD! You're still  _ alive!" _

The room exploded in murmurs and expletives, all eyes on the pair starring with renewed interest. Sharron pointed a hesitant finger at Beetlejuice. "Is he... also?"

The demon chuckled. They couldn't even tell the difference by spiritual energy alone? Sure, Getty's energy was a little wishy-washy, not the clearest picture. But he was a  _ demon,  _ and he was doing nothing to conceal his energy!

The agent looked to him, waving a hand. "Can you take your human suit off please?"

With renewed enthusiasm the dead man shook his arms and legs, getting loose. "With pleasure!" He practically shouts with a very toothy smile.

Snapping his legs together and standing straight like a soldier at attention. He reaches a hand to his forehead with a flourish. Grabbing a hold of something at his hairline he pulls his hand down his face  **_unzipping_ ** himself. Freeing him of the human visage and pulling himself out of it like you would a tight pair of pants. He discarded the second skin to the side and it lay in a crumpled heap that looked like damp newspaper.

Did he need to do it in such an obviously grotesque way? No.

Could he have done it with a finger snap and a sparkly cloud of smoke? Yes.

Was it nearly as fun as putting the other ghosts in their place and watching them squirm?  _ HELL  _ no.

The best part was that it made Getty smile.  _ Progress! _ His plans might not be totally dead in the water,  _ not yet _ .

The edges of Grace's mouth quirked up at the demons over the top theatrics. She saw the ghostly housewife cringe in disgust.

"Susan, was it?" Gesturing to the woman, "That's a generous offer, but your involvement won't be needed. The report I got said you've tried to remedy the situation yourself with mild haunting, and that it brought more attention." Grace finished with a cool tone.

Beetlejuice played the hype man from behind. "Ohooo! Get shut down! That's what you get for being weak sauce Samantha!"

"My name is Sharron!" The dead woman snapped petulantly.

"Ya, I know that's yer name.  _ I'm calling you Samantha." _ He shot back with an exaggerated smirk.

Opening his mouth to say more, Grace's hand connects with the back of his head with a smack.

"Ow!" Beetlejuice whined.

"Cut it out!" Hand still raised and face still barely portraying even half the emotions the Beetle had come to expect from the agent.

Instead of a biting comment he rubs his head and grumbles. "Yes sir." He had to remind himself that if a position of freedom and power in the living world next to Getty couldn't be bought with  _ "Friendship"  _ he'd have to be irreplaceable in another sense. And that meant being like the yes men Getty surrounded himself with. It was a bitter pill to swallow. But he was still a demon trapped, his parole officer the only one with a key.

What confused him most was why he felt so bad about blowing the  _ "friendship"  _ con _.  _ It was one of many plans, he shouldn't care as much as he did.  _ Ugh. _

Refusing to think about it anymore he simply shoved his hands into his bottomless pockets, his bright green hair marred by the appearance of purple streaks he himself wasn't aware of.

Grace was definitely unsettled by the demon's change in demeanor. He was rolling over at the slightest reprimanding? He was acting like her employees before they had shaken the learned responses beat into them by the cult she'd taken them from. She wanted to figure it out, but her current state of mind wasn't giving her a lot to work with. It was a problem that lots of people have dealt with, being totally fine until a seemingly inane comment almost breaks you in half. The brief spat with Beetlejuice had opened a floodgate of emotions that she was holding with a tight leash. A leash that threatened to snap if Grace didn't keep herself steady. So her face remained impassive as she decided on a plan of action.

Grace addressed the room as a whole this time. "I will handle this by any means necessary, so for the night I need you all to take a back seat. My consultant and I will take care of this, so stay unseen and unheard." She looked to the Beetle before speaking just to him, "Recon is gonna work better if you're also invisible for a while."

"One invisible demon comin' right up." He waved a lazy hand over himself, though Grace could still see him he had become a bit more transparent in her eyes.

The proof of his total invisibility came as two of the ghoul chasers entered the room suddenly without casting him so much as a glance. One of them almost walked right through him. It was the woman and the cameraman, talking to each other as they pushed through the doors.

"I'm telling you Tom, this shoulda' been our base camp, everything feels denser here! I just wish Steve would liste~" Her words dying in her throat as they both realize Grace was in the room.

Tom the cameraman stepped slightly in front of his companion in case Grace proved to be as violently inclined as her partner had seemed to be.

"We should come back to this room later Cassandra." He said, noticing that the Hawaiian shirt wearing woman hadn't stopped staring at his associate. Cassandra shooed him back and spoke to Grace.

"I hope we're not bothering you, we just need to set up the cameras for this room." she looked around suddenly confused, "I thought I heard people talking in here, but it's just you. Where's your... partner?" her tone more nervous at the mention of Beetlejuice.

He was in fact standing right beside her, hands still in his pockets.

"He's around here somewhere." Grace answered, still staring at the person in front of her. This Cassandra woman seemed to have more spiritual sensitivity in her little finger than her whole team had combined. BJ, still invisible, went up to the young ghoul chaser and blew directly in her ear, laughing when she shrieked, covering her ear with her hand. Grace took several steps closer, keeping eye contact with Cassandra.

"You felt that?" Grace asked, narrowing her eyes.

"That was a super freaky cold spot!" The other woman squealed. The agent simply nodded their head. Reaching for a pocket on her gray backpack Grace pulled out a business card, handing it to the chilled Cassandra.

"It's a shame you work for those goons, if you ever want a change of pace~"

She looked down at the card and raised an eyebrow, "Dolly Levi, Matchmaker?"

"Wrong Card!!" Grace panicked, snatching it back. Beetlejuice meanwhile was bent over laughing at this, saying something under his breath like  _ welcome to the club _ , but she could have heard him wrong. With the dead man still laughing in the background she handed over the correct card, coughing lightly to hide her blush.

The small piece of paper had nothing but a logo and a phone number. Cassandra's eyes widen.

"I-is this! Oh my god, I've only read about this on paranormal conspiracy boards! The rumor that your company has a direct contact phone number that goes straight to the top. That is what this is right? Anybody in the industry would want to get their hands on this number, but nobody knows it!"

Grace stopped her rant with a raised hand, "And we'd like to keep it that way. This isn't for your two numb nuts for bosses, this is for you. Unless, of course, you're happy where you are. Then I suggest you burn it."

With the card handed over Grace leaves the room full of ghouls and ghoul chasers behind with an invisible demon in tow, heading back to the hallway outside. They went to the end near the stairs just to be sure they wouldn't be overheard.

Beetlejuice looks at Getty, "What was all that about?"

"Headhunting," They answer casually, "I'm always looking for talent to join the ranks. I don't know if you noticed, but my company is actually pretty small. Influential, yes. But almost always understaffed." A frustrated look on their face denoting the pain in the ass it really was.

"Pshh, Don't know why ya bother, yer doin' fine on your own, save the occasional demon summoning. Why bring in more people who won't even go on jobs with ya?" He said in a joking tone.

The agent goes silent, not answering his question. Beetlejuice, noticing the change, mentally kicks himself for making another mistake, though he wasn't sure what it was this time.

A beat of silence goes by, really no longer than a second. But a second long enough for the demon to panic and start rambling.

"I-I mean that, really, you do such a killer job! With all the- ya know, stuff. And _employees_. Right!? With no good lackey's ya can't get jack shit done! I mean **_you_** could, but having people around and stuff, I get that!... Well no, actually I don't get that part. ButI'msureyouknowwhatyou'redoingwiththe-"

"Beetlejuice."

Getty's even tone stopped him in his word puking tracks. "I need to know where they put their cameras."

Beetlejuice thanked  _ the powers that be  _ for the interruption before he dug his grave any deeper. Jumping on the presented task like a lifeline.

"Oh! Sure-sure-sure. I can do that, nooo problem."

With a sound like snapping wood chips he cracked his neck, his knuckles, and a few places Grace was pretty sure didn't have joints. Throwing his arms out wide a sound like a giant bubble popping went off and suddenly about ten clones of the dead man stood behind him. Grace recognized them from the sandworm job. Each of them stood in a different over the top pose. It was like facing a Boy band of decay and stripes.  _ Beetlejuice in a boy band...  _ not an image Grace wanted to think too long on, she valued her sanity after all.

Just as suddenly as the copies appeared they took off, scrambling in different directions. One cannon ball jumped straight down the stairwell. Two flew back down the hallway and split off in different directions. Another one sunk slowly through the floor like it was lava, giving a thumbs up as a  _ terminator  _ reference. Others simply disappeared with a snap, and the last one swan dived toward the floor before phasing through it completely like it was water.

And with that, Grace stood alone. Her tense shoulders slumped, releasing the tension she'd forced into them in order to stay upright. She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, breath jumpy and uneven.

_ I'm not gonna do it, I'm not gonna cry in front of anyone. It doesn't help and pity is useless.  _ The overwhelmed woman thought.  _ When was the last time it got this bad? It doesn't make sense. I've kept this bullshit in check for years.  _ **_Years._ ** _ Then one comment from a dead parolee and I'm falling apart at the seams!?...On the verge of crying in the middle of a job, how pathetic can I be? Ugh, I feel so weak it makes me wanna puke.  _ Grace's eyes and throat ached with the strain of holding in so much liquid pain. She was so angry with herself it hurt.

Then there was Beetlejuice. She wanted to be angry with him the most. It was  _ his  _ comment that broke the floodgates. She tried to muster resentment for him, but couldn't do it. It wasn't his fault. Not really.

And so, there the agent stood, unmoving, walking a knife's edge. Teetering towards the pathetic sadness filled hole she lived her life avoiding.

A minute passes. Grace focuses her attention on the draft in the hallway and the tightness in her chest lessens.

three minutes pass. She traces all the cracks in the floor by her feet with her eyes and her head doesn't hurt nearly as bad.

ten minutes pass. She counts her breath into triple digits and her eyes don't burn with unshed tears anymore......

About 15 minutes pass like this and the young woman finally straightens her shoulders, brushing hair from her face and re-tightening the hair band of her ponytail. It was a tedious method, but control was back in her hands. Those small hands then work on the latch of one of the hallway's broken windows. The shattered glass pane is forced open by its frame and Grace leans out. Eyes staring at nothing in particular and taking deep breaths.

That's where Beetlejuice found her when he came rushing back. He floated over, but the human didn't seem to notice him. They looked totally lost in thought and were oblivious to his presence. It was giving him some not so nice flashbacks from when he was totally invisible.

Clearing his throat loudly he smirks when the rough sound makes Getty jump.  _ Yup, definitely not invisible. Hehe... Not that I was worried or anything. _

They spin around with a startled and scared expression but they calm when they see it's him. And, despite himself, that made Beetlejuice smile more.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" His tone lilting playfully.

With a strained posture and voice Getty simply says, "Hmm? Can't remember, probably nothing important."

Agent Fornax leads him to a room along the hallway that may have once been an office. The table in the room wasn't particularly attractive and was made from very heavy wood, probably the reason it was left behind to gather dust in the abandoned building. Crumpled old papers and dry leaves blown in from the broken window covered the floor. The sky outside was more saturated with color, letting them both know that evening was fast approaching.

The cold in the room didn't seem to bother either of the occupants, despite one of them still maintaining a pulse. Not for the first time Beetlejuice wondered why Getty dressed so lightly in obviously pre-winter cold. Breathers didn't handle cold well, he knew that much at least. He starred but couldn't see any goosebumps or shivers on the humans bare arms. Hmm. Maybe being stuck in the roadhouse for so long this time was messing with his memory of what breathers could handle.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Getty unfolded several maps of the asylum's different levels. The paper laid in the dust and the agent gestured to the dead man and back to the papers.

"So you found all the cameras? You did that pretty fast." They said business like.

"Well a' course I got it done quick! I'm the ghost with the most." He said slightly indignant. "When I'm on the job everything gets done 110% better and faster. Quality guar-an-teed or your money back!" He exclaimed in a very authentic sounding radio host voice.

"Enlighten me then, as to where they are." tapping the map they look at him expectantly.

"Well then, pop the cap off your Crayola washable fun marker, cause there's a LOT of these things."

From a pocket in the gray bag Grace pulls a red marker and snaps the cap off in her mouth, holding it between her teeth. "Ready", she says around the marker cap.

Jabbing a finger down on the maps he begins pointing out every camera location.

"There's one here, and here. Two here, one here, here, here, one here, and one over there~"

As he pointed out the cameras he never moved his first hands, instead growing new ones to point out each new spot. For every location he pointed out he grew a new limb from his back and sides. And wherever a finger landed Grace was quick to mark the spot with a red " **X** ".

"~and another here, here, and a weird laser looking thing here. Ghost hunting stuff has gotten  _ weird _ in the last couple decades huh?"

By the time the maps were marked and he was done relaying information, Beetlejuice looked like a multi-limbed horror. Like a really twisted Hindu god. Each appendage was moving independently, extremely reminiscent of an octopus on steroids.

Getty starred, eyebrows arched, impressed by the display of body horror. "Can you do that with your legs too?"

Beetlejuice smiled wide, every extra arm sliding back into his person. "Oh ya, I can do that with  _ every  _ part of my body." He said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows, "You should see me in action between the sheets. Those extra babies are one of many reasons I'm the ghost with the  _ most.  _ If you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down." He says winking. "Since we're bro's I would totally teach you some moves, but my best techniques require at  _ least  _ four hands."

At this point Graces whole face was flushed from her ears to her neck. Beetle saw this and laughed.

"AAhaha! Christ G-dawg, you're such an innocent guy! You're never gonna get  _ any _ action turnin' red like that man. You gotta be more  _ chill,  _ like me!"

"Alright, alright! You're Satan's gift to women, I get the picture, can we move on!?"

With the demon still chuckling to himself Grace focused on the maps. Uncapping the marker again she starts making notes of the spots in the building with an abundance of cameras and detection equipment. Looks like... one of the treatment rooms and lab, some of the old patient living quarters, and the asylums on sight mortuary. It was easy to understand why they chose those spots, and it would make the demon-human pair's job much simpler.

"Okay. At this point we need to make the knuckleheads downstairs realize this place isn't suitable for their show  _ or _ the haunted tourist map. Thanks to the residents  _ "Taking initiative" _ and the fact that we're dealing with the Ghoul chasers, convincing them this place isn't haunted in the first place ain't in the cards." She scratches at her forehead with the back end of the marker.

"That leaves us with plan B. Scaring them bad enough they leave. And we do it in the worst "Not safe for Television" way possible. 'Cause scared or not, if this ends up on T.V. this'll all be pointless."

Every word of explanation from Grace made Beetlejuice smile more. Already in a better mood after flustering his partner, Beetle was practically glowing with excitement thinking about scares raunchy and horrendous enough that they couldn't be aired on public television. His hair was a dark emerald green that was shining with pent up excitement.

It wasn't lost on him that this would also be his first time scaring with a partner, and it offered  _ lots  _ of new possibilities. Getty and Beetlejuice both leaned over the maps, deciding where each scare would happen for the most impact. Places like the on sight morgue were a good spot because Getty compared the photos and maps and noticed the room had no windows. Cramped access hallways, open rooms, long corridors. They plotted and planned as it got later and later.

\---

Final touches and the plan was together. It was decided that Getty would stick close to the Ghoul chasers as an inside agent, to sow fear and terror in the small group from the inside out. They would also be a willing participant in BJ's more  _ physical _ scares. Since putting other breathers in danger was a big no no.

"They'll start filming at nightfall, we've got about an hour." Getty says looking out the window behind them.

Beetlejuice nods, still looking at the maps. "Right. Let's go over it again, since this is the first scare you've ever been a part of. It's better for everyone if you don't fuck this up."

Getty rolls their eyes at the ghost but says nothing, this was the B-mans speciality after all. Only one entity in the room was a demon who's spent decades scaring for fun  _ and _ as a job. So the other kept their mouth shut.

"So, what'ya do first G-man?" He asks, crossing his stripped arms over his chest.

"I approach the group claiming I've lost my partner, ask to stay with them in an effort to look for him and stick with them for the rest of the night."

"And if things go sideways?"

"Follow your lead." They say plainly.

Beetlejuice grins from ear to ear... literally, and rubs his hands together. This is what he was made for, the reason he chose to be a bio-exorcist instead of an assistant to Juno.  _ When you love your job you never work a day in your after-life. _

The hour passes, the sun sets, and the plan is put in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment contributes energy to a magic circle meant to rend the veil between worlds in half allowing ghosts and humans to mingle. That and I REALLY love reading comments~


	12. An evil plan in motion, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace infiltrates the Ghoul Chasers and proves she deserves an acting award, and Beetlejuice proves he's still the king of scares~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for silvergryph13 , Thanks for the commenting on the story even though all evidence pointed to it being dead! That's the shit I live for~ That little bit of motivation was what got this chapter together, so it might as well be yours! This one's for you dawg!

Grace found the Ghoul chasers at their base camp on the first floor. With the fall of darkness the already dimly lit building was filled with inky black shadows. Grace navigated with only a small flashlight. Honestly, she would have been able to move around a lot better without one, by letting her eyes naturally adjust to the dark. Her night vision wasn't any better than the average persons, but it was still her preferred method.

But she had to play her part. And that entailed being a scared woman, alone with only a flashlight. Beetlejuice had said that it was the perfect character to garner sympathy, and that hundreds of horror movies and slasher fics couldn't _all_ be wrong.

The group she was approaching was unlike her, in that each was equipped with a headlight and what looked like several back ups. The woman Cassandra and the guy with the impressive sideburns both wore head mounted cameras. The cameraman Tom was making final adjustments while Steve and Micheal straightened out their clothes, preparing to film the episode's intro.

Cassandra was the first to notice Grace's arrival as she entered the ring of harsh white light given off by their camping lamps.

"Oh! Hello there again." Her comment drew the attention of the rest of the group. All eyes now on Grace.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Sideburns asks.

The intruder ignores the question instead asking their own, "Have any of you seen my partner?"

The Ghoul chasers look at each other, confused by the question.

"Have you seen him!" Grace says with more force.

"Fuck off, alright? We're about to start our show." Steve says turning back towards the camera.

"Please! I get that you don't like me or who I work for but this is important! He's **missing!** " What looked like barely controlled desperation in Grace's tone and face caught them all by surprise.

This time Cassandra's the one to answer, "I'm sure... What's his name?"

"Ben" Grace answers, shifting from foot to foot in an agitated way.

"I'm sure Ben is fine, this is a big place, he probably just wandered too far."

Sideburns mumbles, " _That dude did NOT look like a Ben."_ Cassandra elbows him.

"I don't think we know your name either." the blonde extends a hand, "I'm Cassandra, you can call me Cassy." Grace shook the offered hand firmly.

"I'm employee #17 of the investigation department, you can call me Getty."

"Alright, well Getty you can stick with me and Tom until you can get a hold of Ben." She says gesturing between her and her older friend who nodded quietly. Grace gives the two of them a bright and relieved smile.

"Whoa-whoa-WHOA! Cassandra, that is not your call to make." Steve interrupts striding over to them with an annoyed look.

Cassy steps in front of him stopping his path to Grace, "Cut it out Steve, the only reason you have a problem with them is because of the group they work for. What's the harm in letting 'em tag along?" she said in a calm voice.

The dark haired T.V. show host curled his lip in a frown. "They're looking for their freaky partner right? They don't have to be with us to do that!"

The sideburn mustache man spoke up, "You want them to wander around a _haunted asylum_ ? Alone? At NIGHT? Steve, have you never seen a horror movie?! That's how people get **got.** "

The co-host Micheal joined the fervent discussion that was quickly becoming an argument. "Lay off it Brian, keep your horror movie obsession to yourself." He scoffed, as if the notion of a horror movie fan was dumb... As opposed to hosting a _ghost hunting_ show.

Cassandra huffed, "Getty is asking for help, guys!"

"Ya! Help finding their friend who threatened us with an AXE!" Micheal snapped.

Steve nodded along with his fellow host, pointing a finger around Cassandra at Grace "And don't think we forgot about your little _Gameshow_ quip."

Brian shook his head and twirled a finger around his mustache, "Man, that whole introduction mess was started by _you_ Micheal."

"Whose side are you on!?"

"Whatever side isn't leaving some random chic to get ganked by a ghost cause they were alone!"

The argument continued while Grace looked on. She honestly hadn't expected any infighting between them until much later into the plan. She wasn't complaining though, as long as she tagged along during their filming she didn't care if they fought. A divided house cannot stand, and all that jazz.

Though the way that Brian and Cassandra were vouching for her had endeared themselves to her. She hoped the two of them weren't caught by the brunt of the frights to come.

The fighting was about to reach a fever pitch as the evenly divided arguing sides were interrupted. The fifth member of the team who had yet to voice an opinion spoke up.

Tom the camera man stepped forward. "They should come along." His words quelled the rising voices of his employers and teammates. They looked to him, who was looking at Grace. "You won't get in the way or cause trouble?"

Every eye swiveled to Grace. She shook her head, no. That seemed to be a good enough answer for the older camera operator.

He looked to his two bosses and casually told them, "The camera's all charged up and ready." He hefted it onto his shoulder looking to Steve and Micheal for the final say so.

His words had the intended effect and the whole crew murmured their consent to the new and sudden addition to their ghost hunting entourage.

_The first step was a success._

The night continued, time marching forward closer to step two of the plan. Steve and Micheal filmed their intro at basecamp, going over the equipment they would be using in detail and introducing the members of their team. Grace stood towards the back saying nothing, doing a good job of being the scared and worried investigator who'd lost their confidence along with their partner.

The Ghoul Chasers had calmed down, falling into their rolls and doing their respective jobs. Grace drifted to the back of their thoughts as focus was given to making the episode.

Pale light started to leak its way through some of the windows, the rising moon outside provided just enough light that the shadows in the building grew darker in contrast. With equipment prepared the Ghoul Chasers set off. Brian the tech guy stayed with the monitors and a walkie-talkie beside him, ready to direct the team towards any _suspicious paranormal_ activity.

The two hosts, the assistant, and cameraman started down a hallway Grace knew led to some of the living quarters. She stayed about five paces from the team, making a show of pausing at open doors to flash a light inside to look for her _partner_ , calling out his name in whispers. But never straying too far from the group. The slow pace continued as Steve and Micheal talked to the camera.

"We're headed now to the living quarters of the asylum, where patients of this facility were kept." Steve went on in a serious stage whisper.

Much of what they said must have been scripted. Grace noticed where one left off the other would continue.

"That's right Steve, and rumor has it that this part of the building is haunted by the spirit of a child whose mother was a patient here. He got in a terrible accident while visiting her one day and still roams the halls!"

The two hosts continued to go back and forth, telling more of the tale to their audience.

"Of all the lingering spirits, his is said to be the most benign. Which is why we'll be starting our investigation here." Micheal nodded along, pointing to where the hallway opened up into a dead end lined with doors to what must have been bedrooms. These various rooms made up the living spaces for **Wing A,** or so the decaying sign said.

"Witnesses report seeing small things moved out of place and say they experienced tugs on their clothing. One woman stated she heard the call of a quiet voice from one of the rooms, all telltale signs of a child spirit lost in these halls."

Grace grimaced at the story. The idea of a kids spirit being stuck here was ludicrous. Netherworld social services would never let that happen. Though every case was different, there was a standard of care taken, with the souls of children especially. The bureaucracy of the great beyond seemed to take great pains in screwing over as many people as possible with ridiculous amounts of red tape and legal jargon, but had an almost uncharacteristically soft touch for the spirits of children.

And so she rolled her eyes and scoffed quietly to herself.

It was then that she felt a tap on her shoulder. Head snapping over to look, Grace sees a ghostly pale hand with black painted fingernails reaching out of the darkness. Following the hand she sees nothing but a pair of yellow eyes. In the dark the pupils of his eyes reflected like a mountain cat, giving Grace a serious _wild animal in the woods_ vibe.

Beetlejuice raised his hand with an excited "Okay" sign, winking at his partner before fading back to the shadows. That was the signal, Grace needed to move into position. As the magician's assistant, she had to do her part to set up the act.

She walked closer to Cassandra and stood within the sight of her camera, arms at her side, seemingly listening closely to what Steve and Micheal had to say.

_Now for the decisive first strike._

Beetlejuice grabbed the back of their Hawaiian shirt and and yanked sharply.

Grace shrieked, falling back, arms thrown wide to balance herself. She stumbled forward towards the others, voice strained.

"Something just grabbed my shirt!" Grace held herself, rubbing her own arms, doing a good job of looking rattled.

The two ghost hunters looked at her slightly annoyed at the interruption, _about_ to say something when Cassandra let out a similar shriek.

Beetlejuice had pulled on the elastic waistline of her leggings, letting it snap back when he let go. From where she stood Grace saw that Beetlejuice definitely looked down the back of her pants. She internally rolled her eyes, but had to say she respected his dedication to being an irredeemable pervert even during the delicate first stages of the scare.

"Oh my GOD! Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

The group tightened closer around the two women, the camera pointed at both of them.

"Steve! It was crazy! I could _feel_ a hand grab the back of my pants. A tangible encounter almost right away!"

Grace avoided eye contact, still speaking in a strained voice. "It felt like it was trying to knock me over."

Cassy put a hand on the agent's shoulder, "Calm down Getty, we're dealing with a child's spirit here, not anything _malevolent."_

Grace met her eyes, doing her best to look like a panicking person trying to hold it together. She spoke quietly to the group.

"This place doesn't feel right."

Grace mentally high fived herself for a line well delivered when she saw the look on their faces and knew her words had at least a little impact on all of them.

Micheal glared at her, "W-well excuse us if we don't take your word for it. You've been quietly following us since your partner wandered off and you haven't said anything until now! And what do you mean _doesn't feel right_ . What kinda vague bullcrap is that? Have you ever even _been_ to a haunted location? What's the famous Melinoë company doing with someone like _you_ on their payroll?"

Grace glared right back at him. "I've always been sensitive to the paranormal! And I know that in places like this it's always better to be subtle. Spirit watching is a two way street pal! Even if you can't see them, they can damn well see you! And it doesn't help that my own spiritual frequency is like a neon motel sign advertising vacancy. Benjamin's spirit is like a wifi dead spot, a paranormal _No Fly Zone!_ So excuse me for being a little on edge when I'm separated from the person who was keeping me safe!"

The group was a little stunned by her sudden steely voice. She took a deep breath and delivered the finishing blow.

"Ben is still missing and nothing I'm sensing feels like a regular haunting. This place. Does not. Feel right."

It was the absolute nonsense cover story She and Beetlejuice had decided on to give her words more weight. It sounded just enough like bullshit that they wouldn't believe it right away. But as the night went on, they would take what she said more and more seriously.

Steve rolled his eyes, " _Ooookay_. And what's next? Are you gonna say you have magic powers and your best friend is a demon?"

Beetlejuice choked on air behind Grace and forced himself to hold in the peels of laughter, a hand desperately pressed over his mouth. So he just kinda flouted there shaking. When the agent peeked over her shoulder to see him she had to pinch herself to stop her own laugh.

_She coughed,_ "O-of course not, that's ridiculous. I just think some extra care is warranted."

"We're _professionals_ , we know what we're doing."

Grace sighed through her nose but said nothing else. She's done her job and planted the seed of doubt.

Steve and Micheal began rummaging through their bags of equipment. Finding what they wanted, they started speaking to the camera again.

"We're gonna do a spirit box session here, hopefully open a bridge of communication between us and the spirits in the beyond that _need_ our help."

_Wooow, this guy took himself pretty seriously._

They had with them a black box with a speaker on the front. It had several buttons, lights, and dials. The purpose of which was anybody's guess. They rested it on the ground beside a flashlight and started talking to the space around them.

"We're now reaching out to the little boy who's staying here! We'd like to talk to you! We have a very special toy here that can help you talk with us. I'm turning it on now!"

A loud crackle of static ripped through the quiet space, coming from the small device. Then the static came and went in short bursts as it switched through open radio channels, attempting to provide nearby spirits a mode of communication.

Grace watched as Beetlejuice approached the box, flouting from the shadows behind her. He squatted beside it, resting his weight on the heels of his boots. He was the picture of casual disinterest, until Steve started talking again.

"Is there a presence here in the room with us!"

A wicked grin stretched over the demon's face. He reached a hand out and held it just over the box. The stream of static broke and nonsense words started pouring from the speaker in fitz and starts.

"Whoa! Micheal, are you hearin' this!? This is an intense response we're getting here!"

Everyone was staring at the box, trying to make out some of the random words. Beetlejuice removed his hand and the plain static started up again.

"Spirit, we wanna help you, do you wanna talk to us?"

Beetlejuice repeated the action and another stream of gibberish rattled through the tiny speaker before stopping just as abruptly.

"Wow guys, this is seriously wild." Micheal scooted closer to the spirit box. "Are you the young boy who haunts here?"

The static continued uninterrupted. Beetlejuice sat scratching his stubble, thinking about how to answer. With still nothing but static, Micheal repeats his question.

"Are you the young boy who stays here?"

The dead man's eyes light up in epiphany. He sticks his _whole_ hand inside the box causing it to go totally silent.

Beetlejuice, with his deepest graveliest voice, lets out a full bodied laugh. A menacing cackle refined for the purpose of sending chills up spines, that comes through the speaker crystal clear.

For Grace it was a bit like listening to his laugh in double stereo, with it coming from two sources at once, the demon himself, and the box, with a bit of delay. Of course she'd never mention it, but it made her feel the tiniest bit better too. She honestly liked Beetlejuice's laugh when she wasn't on the threatening end of it. The opposite sentiment was true for the others.

The effect was instant.

The disturbing laugh bounced around them as their blood seemed to turn to ice water. They all took a sudden and large step back. Fear written on their faces. Grace did her part to fuel the fire by loudly gasping in terror and falling back on her hands. Steve rushed forward, clicking the device off, leaving the five of them in gut wrenching silence.

"That... Didn't sound like a kid." Micheal says in a hushed tone.

The resulting tension in the room was so thick Grace would have needed Beetlejuice's wood splitting axe to cut it.

Steve, doing his best to play the team leader, attempted to rally the troops and continue the show.

"I-It seems the previous accounts misinterpreted the activity here. It's fair to say we must be dealing with the lingering spirit of a patient from here."

He didn't sound nearly as confident as Grace thought he wanted to be. He looked to Michael and Cassandra, nodding his head, "You both agree right?" Trying to convince himself as much as them. They all nodded with him, smiling nervously.

The co-host went over and retrieved the spirit box from the floor, reaching out like it might bite him before it was safely back in his bag.

"R-right, the spirit in this part of the hospital must be one of the patients of the facility that tragically passed. Even if it's not the spirit we thought, none of the beings residing here are harmful. We're here to investigate the paranormal, and what we just experienced was an obvious attempt at communication! We gotta keep going. It's our duty to see this through!"

The co-host Micheal grew more sure of himself as he talked, the tension in the room lessening and the rest of the crew looking more positive.

Grace was admittedly disappointed the mild terror didn't last longer. And judging by Beetlejuice who clicked his tongue and crossed his arms with a scowl from where he flouted in the corner, he was of the same thought.

The person who came over to help Grace to her feet was camera guy Tom. Without taking the camera off the two TV show hosts for even a moment he lifted her up by the elbow without saying anything. _Ever a man of few words I guess._

"Cassandra, did you check to see if the cameras in this room are still working?"

"Um... ya" She mumbles, checking one of the wall mounted cameras and giving a thumbs up.

"Alright crew, Brian'll keep an eye on this place through the cameras and keep us updated, let's move to the next area."

Grace pictured the map in her head, remembering where the clusters of recording equipment had been placed. She could give a good guess as to the next stop on their little trip. Grace smiled to herself when Steve confirmed it.

"We'll be heading to the west end treatment rooms and lab on the third floor, move out gang!"

The small band of breathers headed toward where the map said the staircase was. Cassy and Micheal walked at the front of the group while Steve continued talking to the camera, explaining the story behind their next location. Grace stayed a few paces back, paying almost no attention to what the man was saying for the sake of the viewers.

Bits and pieces of his words floated towards her. Enough to know they were looking for ghosts of people who were subjected to the facility's cruel _treatments._ What she paid her attention to instead was the two at the front. They approached a corner and as they turned Grace held her breath in anticipation.

Cassandra and Micheal both **screamed**.

It came out of nowhere and cut Steve off in the middle of a sentence. The others ran to them, but not in time to see what had elicited the shrill response.

Of course, Grace knew. She had plotted this together with her demon conspirator. The two victims trembled against a nearby wall, Cassandra shaking and Micheal holding his hand firmly over his eyes. Steve held each of them by a shoulder to calm them while asking what they saw.

Grace quietly removed herself from the group to look down the hallway in question. Instead of seeing something horrific, what she sees is the stripe clad dead man rolling on the floor silently laughing his guts out. Propping himself up on an arm to look at Grace and wipe a tear from the corner of his eye while he continued to try and control his mirth.

Still smiling he gave the agent a thumbs up which she returned, though with a more serious face.

Grace returned to the group as Steve firmly asked what was down the hall for the third time. The two had caught their breath, but instead of saying anything Cassy detached the head mounted camera to show him the distorted footage.

Grace looked over his shoulder to watch along.

The camera swept around, shaking slightly from the steps of the ghoul chaser carrying them. Through the speaker they could hear Steve from when he had been talking to the main camera behind them. The view continued along the hallway towards the corner. The closer they got the more the footage crackled and split. It wasn't the jump scare any of them were expecting. The object of horror simply stood, coming into view as they rounded the corner.

A man stood in the dark hallway. Lit only by the flashlight mounted beside the fixed camera.

His features were hard to distinguish, almost blurry. What **was** distinguishable was the deep and hideous slice taken out of his throat. Dark blood bubbled from the wound and mouth, as the mysterious man choked on it. He was jerking forward as if to cough something up, but all that came out was more of the viscous liquid.

Where it seeped down the front of his hospital gown it turned to black tar as it pooled around his feet. The two recording it all had frozen watching the spectacle of pain.

He looked up suddenly, making searing eye contact with the ghoul chasers and over the recording they could all hear the two of them let out the same scream that had alerted the rest of them. Then, just as suddenly, he was gone. The abrupt absence of the man frayed their nerves as much as his appearance.

The clip of footage couldn't have been more than 25 seconds long, but it was more than enough. Micheal stopped the playback with a *click*. The footage was rough, but the subject had been clear. To say it scared them would be inaccurate. It **disturbed** them. The image of the man settled in the back of their minds like cold stagnant water.

Grace rested her hand on Steve's shoulder making him jump. On the verge of scolding their tag along he stopped when Grace held a finger to her lips asking for silence. 

She couldn't let the group stop long enough to collect their scattered nerves, taking the next step herself to maintain their pace.

With a " _nervous face_ ", ( _Jesus, someone get me a grammy,_ ) and in full view of the group she walked to the hallway corner.

Cassy moved to try and stop her but her bosses held her in place. Tom's camera was trained on Grace's small figure as she disappeared behind the wall. The silence they sat in was chilling as they waited for their impromptu companion to come back with news. After a minute of waiting the colorfully dressed woman sticks her head back around the corner, signaling with a small wave.

"The hallway and stairs are all clear, there's nothing there anymore."

The group followed her to the now empty space. Well... empty of anything they could see.

Grace took up her spot at the back of the group as they walked, taking in a deep breath from the air around her. It smelled faintly of burnt sugar.

The last time she smelled it was when Beetlejuice pulled some serious juice to help with the sandworm. Thinking back to the few other demons she's worked with, Grace could remember similar smells. Some had smelled like sulfur, or heavy smoke. The last one she had worked with had smelled like burning tree sap. A strange hallmark of demonic magic was that it always smelled like something burning. It was never pleasant but some were better than others.

Taking another deep breath of the air she smiled a bit to herself. This was definitely her favorite. Not that she would ever tell Beetlejuice that.

She could hear the others talking animatedly about the full bodied apparition and throwing around other similarly impressive sounding ghost hunter lingo. Their words and voices sounded excited but their body language betrayed them. Rigid postures, walking closer together, nervous glances around them, things were building up nicely.

Before she knew it they stood in front of a large pair of swinging double doors. The small plaque beside them marked it as the entrance to the general treatment room for the third floor.

The air was getting much colder as the night went on. The crisp atmosphere danced on the exposed necks of all the Ghoul Chasers sending the group into collective shivers. Despite still being in a short sleeve Hawaiian shirt, the chill didn't make the agent uncomfortable.

The two hosts were talking to the camera again. Saying something about reports and witnesses and tortured patients. None of it would change what they were about to walk into so Grace continued to pay it little mind.

They shouldered the doors open. The hinges, rusted from years of neglect, let loose an ungodly screech making everyone flinch.

The room was big, very big. The tiled floor was chipped and scratched like the rest of the building. The walls were a weak blue color reminiscent of hospitals everywhere. Old medical cabinets still leaned against the far wall. Some of the old bed frames still dotted the space, once holding mattresses and sheets, divided by white curtains, now broken and littering the space.

Very little light slipped in through the windows, but enough that they could navigate the shadowy space without relying entirely on flashlights. The room's creep factor was in the triple digits for sure.

Grace scanned the room, eyes landing on one of the abandoned metal chairs. Straddling the back of the chair was her dead parolee, grinning wickedly, unseen by every breather in the room besides her. She remembered that during the planning session Beetlejuice had been especially excited about this one. After seeing how he handled the enemies van outside it made sense he had a flare for vandalism.

So he sat barely containing himself while the ghoul chasers set up more equipment. He stood, shaking his arms and legs, ready to give his inner teenage hooligan another stretch.

Grace and Beetle paid less attention to the devices laid out than before. Beetlejuice would be taking a more direct approach. He wouldn't be _communicating_ with them through their little toys again.

Like He said during planning, when you use a scare once you shouldn't use it again on the same audience. A predictable demon is an exorcised demon. So they ignored the expensive looking, beeping, and blinking tools the group had.

Sitting beside everything on a rickety looking table Micheal turned on an LED camping lamp, almost filling the larger room with pale light and casting stark shadows. Cassandra came over to check on Grace while holding one of the tools that looked like a chopped off plastic gun. It was an infrared thermometer for catching cold spots in a room.

"Hey Getty, I just wanted to make sure you're doin' alright. We're almost done getting everything out." She holds out the gun and shakes it a bit, "This is one of my favorites, just point and click-" she jokingly points it at Grace "-and you can see- wait, what? Getty are you sick right now?"

"No? I'm feeling fine, I mean, other than how anxious I feel in this godforsaken building... Why?"

"N-nothing, it's just. You're warm, like _really_ warm" she said looking down at the number displayed on the guns screen.

Without missing a beat Grace waved it off, "It's too bad your favorite tool isn't working. That's a real bummer."

"Ya. I-I mean ya, of course, it's probably been knocked around or something."

Cassandra, having failed to lighten the mood, wandered back to the others, the thermometer gun loosely in her hand. Grace hoped that was the end of it and that no other prying eyes saw the uncomfortable exchange.

Of course she wasn't so lucky.

The demon who's eyes had been glued on his prey just a moment ago was looking right at her and had been paying very close attention, looking away before the parole officer caught him. _Another possible piece of the agent Fornax puzzle? Perhaaaps~_ He made a mental note to not forget this little moment.

They continued fiddling with dials and buttons while, unbeknownst to them, an evil plan was going down. Beetlejuice climbed out of the chair and with a snap of his fingers more of him crawled out of thin air. They got together and the small contingent of Beetlejuice copies were in a football huddle with the original. Heads all bent towards the middle, he gave them instructions. Muffled talking and laughing come from the sinister group of ghouls.

Grace got closer to them while pretending to inspect the dusty cabinets. She could see the original BJ wearing a bright green baseball cap with a coaches whistle around his neck. Grace caught his eyes and gave him a subtle nod which he returned with a crazed smile.

The Ghoul Chasers were done setting up. Taking longer than necessary out of showmanship for the camera or nerves, Grace could only guess. Though the shakiness in their hands made the guess pretty easy.

Grace pulled over and sat in the same chair Beetlejuice had recently vacated, still keeping an eye on both groups occupying the room.

When Micheal and Steve started talking to the _"lingering spirits"_ Grace saw the dead man and his carbon copies put their hands in the middle, pushing them down and out as he stage whispered "AAAND BREAK!"

Each of the clones ran from the circle, taking up different positions around the room along the walls. The OG bug-man hovered near Grace, listening as the breathers in front of them continued their line of questioning for any _"Spirits"_ nearby.

"Is there anyone here with us?"

... _nothing_

"Are there any patients trapped here who want help?"

... _Silence_

The lack of a response from any of their devices at first gave them some relief. No one said anything but, the last response they'd gotten wasn't one they wanted repeated. But soon the relief was replaced by frustration as every question was met with silence.

With every question they asked Beetlejuice made the draft in the room stronger. Nothing noticeable though, _not yet_.

With still no answers the anxiety crawled in and the exacerbated Steve spoke angrily to the room.

"Why are you here? What do you _want!?"_

Beetlejuice stopped the wind.

No one had noticed its slow build up, but everyone noticed its sudden absence. The room and its occupants were as still as stone. They held their collective breath, waiting. Waiting for what? They weren't sure.

Then came the scratching noise. It came from everywhere at once, all around them. It took a moment, but Cassandra noticed first.

"The walls..." She sqeaked out.

Words were clawing themselves into existence all over the walls. The ear splitting scratch and crumble of old drywall echoed through the room.

Grace, of course, could see the demonic source of the frankly poor handwriting. Every clone was working on their own spot, sharp black nails digging across the bland walls. Meanwhile the Beetlejuice beside her held his arms out to maintain the oppressive atmosphere.

Moments later they could start to make out what some of the words said. Fear mingled with disgust and insult as they all started talking over each other.

"Oh my GOD!"

"Gross~"

"You can't say **THAT!** "

"How?...WHY!?

*retching noise*

"Fucking pervert!"

"...Is that how you spell that?"

"Jesus Christ!"

"That is _NOT_ politically correct!"

*more retching noises*

Profanities, slurs, curse words and the like covered the pale walls. Anything Beetlejuice could think of to make their footage of the encounter rated R. From extreme body horror to the obscene profanities, none of it would be marketable to their main demographic and it would most certainly never be aired on general television, that was for certain.

Grace was impressed. It took real effort to be so offensive. And really "offensive" wasn't a strong enough word for what was scrawled on the walls. Though she supposed Beetlejuice had a natural talent for it. She honestly couldn't pick a favorite, they were all so horrendous.

The scratching faded, as did the choking atmosphere as Beetlejuice lowered his hands. The room calmed a bit, even with the scared humans still standing at its center.

Grace shifted out of her chair, doing a good job of looking more fearful than any of them. The agent approached the nearest wall, examining one of the words closely.

Beetlejuice drifted with them, impressed with how scared they managed to look. _I wonder what my gatekeeper would look like if they were_ **_actually_ ** _scared._ An extra pair of arms came out of his torso with a pen and a little black notebook to scribble a quick note to self.

~ _NTS: Find out what Getty looks like scared~_

He kept a close eye on his parole officer as they set up the perfect situation for his next scare.

Emboldened by the other woman's approach of the wall, Cassandra rushed over to Grace, nervous and worried.

"Getty! What are you doing!? Be careful-"

"Cassy, calm down, I think it's over" Grace said, taking a deep breath. She reached out her hand to one of the words, all eyes in the room looking at her.

Cassandra moved to stop her "Wait~"

Grace touches the word.

The humans in the room all suddenly had terrible ringing in their ears. The piercing sound was borderline painful. The crew crushed their hands over their ears in an attempt to keep the noise out. Nothing worked, as if the sound was coming from inside their own heads.

In a state of panic they were screaming and searching for the source of the noise. Then things got worse. Then the walls started to bleed. Where the words broke the painted surface dark scarlet blood poured down the walls in thick streaks. Closer to the floor the blood grew darker and stickier. Pooling on the ground as burning black tar.

Micheal screamed, "T-that's the s-same stuff from that hallway guy!!"

The scare assaulted nearly every sense, as the room got colder and the smell finally hit them. The smell of thick blood and rot was everywhere. They couldn't get away from it. Coppery blood and burning tar filled their noses, the cold hit their skin, and the ringing persisted. It was a sensory overload.

It twisted everyone into a frenzy, and it nearly twisted Grace as well. This wasn't the kind of thing where Beetlejuice could pick and choose who was affected. If he made a horrible ringing noise, _everyone_ would hear it. If the horrible smell filled the room, _everyone_ would be affected. including his human parole officer.

It was the task of all tasks to not be overwhelmed by all of it. Looking back Grace would be embarrassed to say it was the underlying smell of burnt sugar that gave her something to ground herself with.

In a stumbling panic Grace and the Ghoul Chasers huddle in the center of the large room, staying clear of the growing black puddles. In the chaos Cassandra starts scrambling, shoveling equipment in her bag and grabbing one of the stationary cameras. Tightening the backpack over her shoulders she turns to the rest with a panicked face.

"WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!" shouting as loud as she can over the ringing noise.

Beetlejuice snaps his fingers and the double doors swing open.

Startled but the obvious invitation to leave the blonde woman hesitates only a moment before grabbing Grace by the arm and sprinting for the exit with the smaller woman in tow. Steve, Micheal and Tom run after her, barreling through the doors and away from the horror behind them.

They run until they find an empty side room that may have once been used for supplies. They rush in and slam the door behind them.

Cassandra crumples to the ground, pulling Grace down beside her. She was on the edge of hyperventilating and wouldn't let go of the death grip she had on Grace's arm. Tom slid down the wall into a sitting position with his camera in his lap. The two television hosts leaned against the closed door, Micheal holding himself, Steve taking deep labored breaths.

The offensive and overbearing sensations disappeared when they left the room. The utility closet they sat in now was filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing.

Grace sat with them, watching quietly. waiting to see what would happen next with the frazzled group.

Beetlejuice must have had a similar thought, because after a minute or two, he drifted in to sit beside Grace on the floor and watch as the drama played out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write for myself, but I POST for all the randos out there who like the same junk as me! Leave a comment, leave a critique, heck! leave an insult! I don't care, I just love it when people interact with the trash I write!


	13. An evil plan in motion, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace makes a dramatic exit to end all dramatic exits, Beetlejuice witnesses an emotional crisis, and the next phase of the plan is put in motion~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter I put out got the most kickass comment! GrapeEscape was super flattering and they even went out of their way to write a short review of my story on their blog as a part of the fanfic spotlights they do! Anyone who's reading this should go check out their stuff on tumblr! GrapeEscape, This ones for you home slice!

"W-what in God's name was all that!?" The fervent whisper had come from Micheal, a shaking hand pushing back the brown and red hair that had fallen in his face.

Beetlejuice sat chuckling to himself, an arm around the shoulders of the only person in the room who could see him.

Steve spoke, forcing the shakiness out of his voice as best he could, "We need to figure out how to handle this, figure out what it wants."

Tom glared at him, "You want us to keep going?"

"I know everyone's a little freaked out-"

"A _LITTLE_ freaked out!?"

"-BUT, moving forward is our best shot! I think that-"

"OH GOD!" Cassandra cried out as if suddenly realizing something, interrupting Steve for a second time.

"What is it Cassy? I'm trying to make a plan here!"

"Hey man, don't be so hard on her. Now is not the time for that!" Micheal shot back.

Tom spoke up over the others, "Both of you need to be quiet, we need to think practically."

"Oh ya!? What do you know about this Tom!"

The three men's bickering continued to escalate, each of them trying to dominate with their ideas and thoughts on how to handle the crisis.

Grace turned her head to see Beetlejuice holding a tub of popcorn in his lap and a pair of old school 3D glasses on his face. Shoveling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth with the hand not currently around her shoulders, watching everything like it was a new episode of his favorite soap opera.

She thought of shoving his arm off, but decided to leave it. The situation she sat in _wasn't_ a fun one. In on the plan or not, the fear of the others was infectious and maintaining the subterfuge in the middle of it all... she was starting to feel the anxiety creep its fingers into her skull.

So she welcomed the friendly contact. It was a solid weight across her shoulders and made her feel better, as opposed to the death grip Cassandra still had on her arm.

The arguing was reaching a fever pitch and Beetlejuice smiled, fingers dancing with excitement.

Then, Cassandra, who was still glued to Grace, shocked everyone in the room by yelling over the three fighting.

" **BE QUITE!!!"**

All eyes, dead or alive, looked at her.

"Does anyone know if Brian is okay!?" Her voice cracked in worry.

Her words caused all their eyes to widen in mounting panic, remembering the crew member they had left all alone. Micheal pulled out one of the walkie talkies from the bag. It's small screen and plastic casing were cracked from Cassy throwing all the equipment in the bag earlier. He clicked it a few times experimentally. _Nothing._

"Steve, do you still have yours?"

"Uh... Y-ya." Fumbling through his pockets he pulls out his own, still unbroken. He switches it on with a satisfying *click*. It's small screen glowed yellow as it beeped to life. The Ghoul Chasers let out a breath of relief.

_We can't have that, now can we?_ Beetlejuice, while trying not to laugh, snapped his fingers.

The walkie talkie sparked suddenly in Steve's hand. The screen flickered out, and a decidedly _not good_ *POP* noise came from inside.

"No, no! Nonononononono!"

The color drained from their faces.

"T-try the cell phones."

"There's no signal out here." Tom answered, holding up the phone in his shaking grip.

Cassandra looked to Steve, "We've gotta go check on him. He's all alone!"

"N-now wait a minute. We just gotta figure out-"

"He could be in trouble! Or hurt! Or, or-"

"Or missing." Grace finished quietly.

The Ghoul Chasers felt their blood go cold. They remembered then, why their impromptu team member had joined them in the first place. Whatever this was that they were dealing with... It had already taken someone. Did they think her partner had just wandered off anymore? Not after everything they'd just seen.

Everyone in the room was frozen by the unknown of who would be next. The air was bitter with the scent of terror.

Beetlejuice noticed the steep spike in fear after Getty's comment. The demon let out a low whistle and nodded his head in appreciation. He leaned closer to his human counterpart.

"Ya sure ya never done this before G-man? 'Cause _Jesus christ_ , I can **_taste_ ** the epinephrine and cortisol comin' off these losers." He said, making a chef's kiss with his hand. "And the timing? Gave me goosebumps! Don't get me started on the creepy inflection, 'cause that was~"

He continued to verbally dissect how well the plan was going while Grace ignored him in favor of the restless humans in front of her. The woman still attached to her arm was getting twitchy. Then as Steve opened his mouth to speak Cassandra shot up to her feet.

"I'm going to go back for Brian!"

She was across the room in two strides, reaching around Micheal for the handle. The co-host grabbed her arm, "You can't go alone! You don't know what'll happen!" he hissed. Cassandra hesitated, looking around the room for offers of help. When the others wouldn't meet her eyes she hung her head, dejected.

Then Grace scrambled to her feet. She went over and gripped Cassy's arm.

"I... I'll go with you." Her nervous face twitched in an almost smile, "I still need to find my partner BJ. I won't leave this place without him."

Both of them moved for the door, this time being stopped by Steve.

"We're not splitting up... But I know we can't stay here forever either. We're all going."

Cassandra nodded once, hand on the door handle. She turned it and the door creaked open, extra loud and squeaky thanks to Beetlejuice spitting on the hinges. The hallway outside was dead quiet as the group left the supply closet. Steve pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it to reveal a map of the building. Looking at it he pointed to the right of the group.

"There's a stairway to the first floor on the other side of the building, if we go this way we can get there without passing the treatment room." Everyone nodded, silently agreeing with the plan of action.

"To base camp, then."

The Ghoul Chasers and their plus one speed walked through the dilapidated building, past broken windows, and peeling walls. Some of the rooms had doors hanging from broken hinges, opening to unlit darkened spaces that just screamed _You'll get murdered if you go in there_. The hallway was only a little bit better because of the flashlights they carried.

Not giving them a moment's calm, Beetlejuice harassed them every step of the way. A whisper in their ear, a chill up their spine, the sound of shuffling from behind them, the occasional mysterious silhouette jump scare, and of course the ever present disembodied laugh. Each scare was a push, causing them to move faster and faster. They were practically running by the time they got to the stairwell.

At the top of the winding stairs they stopped to catch their breath. Grace leaned against the wall, imitating the scared shuddering of the others. The next scare was moments away and she took the moment too mentally prep herself for what Beetlejuice had planned.

She wasn't thrilled about what was coming down the pipe for her. _She didn't like heights._

"This is HELL! What _is_ this thing!? It's been on our heels since we started!" Micheal wailed, hands fisted in his hair.

Cassy shivered, "I c-can't get that laugh out of my head!" At that Beetlejuice grinned and cackled from his spot floating over the group. "There it is again!" Cassy shrieked, pressing her hands over her ears.

"Ooooh, she _is_ sensitive, I wasn't even trying that time~" The demon said darkly.

The crew was twitchy with fear, trying and failing to catch their breath for the last sprint to presumed safety. The floating Beetlejuice waved to Grace. They locked eyes and he winked, disappearing.

The ball was in her court now.

She moved closer to the railing that led to the three story drop. The agent spoke up getting their attention.

"Everyone! We've got to keep going! We need to get to Brian and I still need to find..."

everyone had frozen, not daring to even breathe.

"... What're you all looking at?" She said in a weak voice.

They had all gone silent. They stared at her with open horror.

No, not _at_ her. _Behind_ her.

Cassandra waved a hand to Grace in a coaxing motion.

"Getty... Walk towards us... slowly..." Her voice was shaking worse than she was.

Just out of Grace's sight, but visible to everyone else, were the hands.

So many hands. Dozens of pale, filthy, black nailed hands. All stretching into existence from the inky black just beyond the railing. All of them poised just a hair's breadth from touching Grace. Nothing and nobody moved for what seemed like an eternity. The silence punctuated by the sound of shallow breathing.

Without looking behind her she took a shaky step towards Cassandra's outstretched hand.

But she only made it one step before one of the hands slowly curled around her wrist.

Grace's breath hitched and without moving her head, looked down to her arm. Her eyes darted back to Cassandra and the others, filled with panic.

With a faint voice she locked eyes with Cassy, "Wait n-"

Every hand surged forward in a tangle of limbs before she could even finish her words. Grabbing anywhere they could find purchase, almost completely covering her. Pulling her violently past the railing. She struggled and tried to hook her legs on the railing but was yanked sharply away. Once grabbed and pulled into the air Grace let out an absolutely blood curdling scream as she fell into the darkness, beyond the view of the others.

One floating hand was left. It twirled around in the air to flip them off as Beetlejuice's gravelly laugh sounded from the dark that had swallowed their companion Getty.

Cassandra was the first to snap out of the frozen shock. Her whole body still numb with fear she sprinted to the stairs and ran, skipping steps, to the bottom.

On instinct (and for a lack of better options) the rest of the crew followed, struggling to keep up with the hysterical Cassy. The winding stairs led to an open space at ground level where the steps met the floor.

Cassandra was out of breath and frantically searching around. When the rest of the group got to the bottom they stopped. What was she looking for? _There wasn't anything there._

They paused. _There was nothing there... including Getty's body._ The floor was clear of any gore that a three story fall should have caused.

Cassy had only known Getty for a couple hours. First impressions had been rough, but mostly because her partner _Ben_ gave her the heebie jeebies, (and she was pretty sure he was serious about the axe thing). But when they all got caught up in the paranormal shit storm together, Getty had been as scared as the rest of them. She'd seen the smaller woman tremble and felt her own fear mirrored on Getty's face. But despite that, Cassy felt a steady countenance coming from the company agent and had clung to her without knowing exactly why.

Some instinct, some sixth sense in Cassandra had reacted to the Hawaiian shirt wearing woman. Her subconscious knew, somehow, that Getty was at the eye of the storm. So standing beside her was the safest place to be in this hurricane.

Then those _hands_ had taken her. _Those creepy pale hands_ . _What sort of disgusting, terrible, horrific thing might be on the other end of those things?_ The thought sent a shiver through her already shaking body.

_Getty had been right_ . They all knew that now. This wasn't a regular haunting. They'd never even encountered an honest to god haunting before. But when they finally do, it's _this!?_

Steve, Micheal, and Tom stood in the dark space with her. Without saying a word they continued their trek back to Ghoul Chasers base camp, keeping a very fast pace.

\---

Grace wasn't sure what part of the building she was in, but Beetlejuice had been smart enough to pick a room with no cameras and a few chairs. Her head was still spinning from being pulled into the air, followed immediately by being teleported to this room.

She clung to Beetlejuice's striped shoulder, waiting a moment for the dizzy spell to pass. Grace pulled over and straddled a nearby chair much like she'd seen Beetlejuice do, slumping forward with her arms hanging at her sides like dead weight.

Beetlejuice was the far more animated of the two. He was about a foot off the ground with an absolutely wicked smile while he punched the air in a victory dance.

"WOOO!! That was BEAUTIFUL! The fear was so thick it was like one a' those milkshakes you gotta eat with a spoon!" he snorted in the middle of his laugh, "Oh! And that little infighting in the supply closet!? Hiding in there an' gettin' all angry at each other right after screamin' their heads off! Classic!"

He was so happy he was practically vibrating... _Wait. was he actually purring? Can demons purr?_

"And did ya see their reactions to all the slurs on the walls!? Comedy GOLD. I'm tellin' ya G-man, absolutely priceless!"

He continued his excited ramblings, reveling in the fear he had wrought. Grace watched him, not interrupting. In the time she'd known him the agent had only seen him genuinely excited a few times. She definitely wasn't gonna take the moment from him.

His smile showed off his pointed canines and brightened everything about him. From her seat Grace thought for a moment, that yes, Tia's assessment of the dead man was correct, he was handsome under all the deadness. Her exhausted brain didn't have the energy to analyze the thought as she sat recovering from her mental marathon.

Mid-ramble, Beetlejuice noticed for the first time the _less than stellar_ state his parole officer was in.

"Yikes G-dawg, ya look like death warmed over. And _I'd know,_ I've put myself in a microwave before."

Getty looked at him pointedly, "Flattery won't get you anywhere BJ."

"Right, yet another key point on which we differ pal. So seriously, why d'ya look like roadkill?"

Grace wasn't sure why he was asking, wasn't it obvious? He'd been pulling out horror movie level scares all night! Just 'cause she knew they were coming doesn't mean she could shut off the natural fear response elicited from, say, **being pulled over a ledge.**

She shook her head, breathing still uneven. "Why do you think, ya ding-bat? I've been running around an abandoned building all night, on TOP of being scared outta my pants!"

Beetlejuice scoffed at the agent's answer. "Ya don't have to try and feed my ego buddy. That stuff scares breathers, but I've dealt with NMPTE stooges before, it takes a _whole_ different brand a' juice to get you people shakin' in yer boots." He chuckled to himself.

Getty was silent though. Their mind was still tired from keeping up with Beetlejuice and the Ghoul idiots. So she wasn't prepared for the seemingly innocuous comment. The job at hand had distracted her well from the initial unwelcome flood of misery. An hour or two in private and she would have been able to get herself right again. But she was in the middle of a job and miles from the solitude she needed.

Giving herself a moment to stop and sit down had been a mistake. It had given her body the second it needed to realize how exhausted it was. She felt like she was running on backup power.

Suddenly, the strong grip she'd had on her emotions felt like it was slipping wildly from her control. The dead man had lumped her together with other agents so flippantly _._ It struck her deep in her exhausted state. One of her deepest insecurities, bared so casually.

It reminded her for the second that night that she _wasn't_ like other agents, _or_ other humans. Or anything around her.

Grace's mind took his words and used them as an express lane to her least favorite place. The ugly chasm of repressed feelings. She'd been to the bottom of that chasm before, 10/10, not a fun trip.

But as she sat there she could feel herself slipping. Eyes burning, with a tightness in the back of her throat. She started panicking, needed something, anything! A shock to her system to pull her from the emotional quagmire for a little longer.

Her hands shot to the pocket of her parrot covered shirt. Fingers curling around the ballpoint pen she knew was there. And in one swift motion- she stabbed the pen into her leg.

She cried out. The sudden pain pulled her from her thoughts and the tears that had threatened her eyes, like she'd hoped it would. A twist of her wrist yanked the pen free. Breathing in quick and shallow breaths, Grace could feel warm wet blood soaking into the fabric just around the puncture. Dropping the pen she pressed her palm to the wound, hissing as she stemmed the bleeding.

Beetlejuice didn't know what the _HELL_ he was looking at. One moment his parole officer was sittin' quietly, lookin' pretty tired. Then the next moment he was _STABBING himself in the LEG!?_

The only warning signs of something being wrong was that leading up to the stab, the air around Getty had been getting progressively heavier. Though in his excitement the Beetle had failed to notice this.

"What the tap dancin' CHRIST! You-you just _stabbed_ yourself!" He yelled out.

His boots hit the ground and he strode toward Getty, more wild expletives on the tip of his striped tongue. But he was stopped in his tracks by Getty holding up their hand. Slowly Getty shifted. Looking Beetlejuice in the eyes. Beetle came to a full stop. His amber eyes met dark brown ones , and he _did not_ like what he saw.

There was something writhing behind them, something horrible. What made it worse, was that it was a feeling he knew all too well. A moment longer and he would have been able to figure out exactly what it was. Maybe put a name to the feeling. But Getty looked away before he could.

The breather pulled around their grey backpack, pulling out bandages and sealing up the small stab wound. Beetlejuice still hadn't moved from his spot when he heard Getty whisper.

_"I'm fine now."_

The demon was floored. When was the last time he'd heard such a blatant and obvious lie that wasn't coming out of his own mouth? He was about to call them out on their bullshit when he was struck by the real meaning behind their words.

_Whatever it was, was over, and it wasn't his business._

For the first time, Beetlejuice noticed just how large of a gap stood between himself and Getty. He wondered idly how anyone could ever get across such a thing.

BJ snapped to attention when the breather suddenly stood with their backpack on and shoulders squared. They looked as energetic as they had at the beginning of the job, like the whole **_stabbing thing_ ** hadn't just happened.

"On to the next phase. This rollercoaster isn't over yet and we shouldn't waste time."

The _whole thing_ gave the supernatural being whiplash.

"Huh? Oh! Ya, sure sure, a 'course, that's what I was gonna say!" He chuckled nervously. Yellow crept through his hair as he side eyed the agent.

"BJ, go check on the first floor, I need to know what the Ghoul Chasers are doing right now."

Beetle simply nodded and casually sunk through the floor, disappearing.

They had agreed during the planning process that the scares were up to Beetlejuice and the convincing and the mind games would be left to Getty. _Not that he couldn't play mind games, but, ya know, proper delegating and all that._

It had let Beetlejuice focus on just the horror, and not the con, for the first time in a long time. _It honestly felt pretty great. Good clean terror while someone else handled the more fiddly bits._

But that meant that the next step was in Getty's hands. And after what just happened, he didn't know _what_ was going on inside the officers head. _Jeez. And people thought_ **_his_ ** _mind was a bag of cats._ .. _Huh...this must be how other people felt when dealing with him._ **_Gross_ ** _._

Several walls and floors later and he was floating over the base camp of the paranormally inept losers. It looked like the group he'd scared with Getty had made it back to their computer buddy. They all sat close together, filling Brian in on what had happened without him. Brian looked skeptical at first. Then they showed him the footage and his eyes grew comically wide in shock.

Beetle drifted closer, keen on hearing more of their conversation. They talked about everything that had gone down, and he appreciated the artistic embellishment. Brian mentioned that his video feeds had been cut (Courtesy of Beetlejuice) and he hadn't been able to get in touch with them after about ten minutes of their departure. And that he'd stayed in place and not gone searching alone because he valued his life. _Smart breather, must be a fan a' horror movies to have such weirdly specific street smarts._

They had all calmed down considerably, which was a point of concern. But after everything he and Getty had put them through he was sure all it would take is a little _convincing_ from his pal to get them to scram and never come back.

He creeped on them for a few more minutes before snapping his fingers and returning to Getty's side. The agent was just tugging their pant leg back into place when he came in. Their pen wound was bandaged over, clean and tight. He saw a glimpse of the bandage they'd used before it was covered again and, _were those rainbow ponies on the bandage? Why would they- Wait, not important. Gotta focus!_ He didn't think the injury was really deep in the first place. Just enough to break past skin. _Just enough to fuckin' hurt._ Everything from their posture to their eyes said Getty was doing fine. Acting much closer to how they'd been earlier in the day before entering the building.

Of course, Beetle had also thought they were fine right before they, ya know, **_shanked_ ** themselves with a pen. So he approached with caution.

"Yo, Getty, all the lil' dick weasels are back at their camp."

Getty nodded, a hand scratching their chin, thinking. Beetlejuice watched them with confusion as they started jogging in place until they were out of breath again.

"I need to look like I've been running for a while, how is it?"

"Well, you just _were_ running for a while. So, ya. Ya nailed it."

"Great. I'm ready, let's go. I want this job over with, I'm sick a' this place."

The dead man grumbled "Ditto" in agreement.

"Drop me off at the end of the north hallway on the first floor. I'll do the _convincing_ and this place'll be vermin free."

Beetlejuice smirked at the vermin slam. _Hey, sometimes it's nice when it's someone else!_

Getty's whole vibe seemed to have reverted back to factory settings. Back to the semi serious agent with a flexible sense of humor he knew them as.

_Getty's a weird dude on principle. And they seem fine now~ Maybe I'm just reading too far into it?_

The demon leapt towards the human and grabbed them by the shoulders.

"North hallway it is then!"

In a blink, both were gone from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For every comment left on this chapter I shall secretly clip another branch off of my terrible neighbors shrubbery until I get caught! (Someone as terrible as her doesn't deserve a nice shrubbery. You guys just gotta trust me on this one~)


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